A Look To the Left
by croOKed-aura
Summary: KBOW! Five years since graduation, Katie Bell finds herself alone and unaccomplished. What she wants won't happen. But the thing she least expects might just take her on the biggest adventure she has yet to endure. Review!
1. To the Left of Five Years Past

**a/n:** so.. it's my first attempt at the katie bell/oliver wood thing. bare with me. i was never much of a supporter, but for some reason, i now find it rather intriguing. i mean, those other couples are getting a _tad_ boring, seeing as they're literally everywhere.

so enjoy this story. i promise, there will be more to it than this lone chapter!

**_AND REVIEW_**

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I never really imagined myself to end up like this. No, really. I thought it would all work it. 

I had visions of myself, being married at the age of twenty-three. I would have my first child by twenty-four. I was suppossed to be one of the 'big guys' at the Department of Magical Games and Events. I was to be living in a wonderful just-the-right-size home with a white picket fence.

But as always, everyone knows the 'white picket fence' picture is a dud. Unless you're this really old lady or whatever.

Instead, my whole live took a turn on the left side of the road. I'm twenty-two and still single. According to my 'plans', I'm suppossed to be engaged by now. But nope - I'm single. Like the vase in front of my with a single flower.

And I hate my job. Granted, I've been accepted to the Ministry of Magical Games and Events, but not how I wanted. I thought I'd get a promotion. I thought I'd be brought up to the top. Yet, why am I still on the lowest of the low? Get this - I'm the _junior_ secretary of Ludo Bagman's secretary's secretary. Which means there's a _senior_ secretary of Ludo Bagman's secretary's secretary. Which means that I'm on the lowest rank possible. Alright fine - maybe not the lowest, seeing as I_am_ somehow linked with Ludo Bagman, but hey - it's still a junior position.

Like, come on! I'm twenty-two! You'd think they'd give me a break. But no - it's almost as if they don't even know I exist. I'm that pathetic. Honestly, without me, Ludo Bagman would be in a lot of mayhem. Seeing as I'm the lowest of the low, I'm the one who has to do all the dirty work for him.

Also known as; sort out all money problems with the goblins.

Now, I hate goblins. I have nothing against them, really. But their beady eyes just glare at you once you say the word 'gold'. It's like you're after all their gold or something. But I'm not. I'm trying to make ends meet for stupid Ludo Bagman. Stupid Ludo too-thick-in-the-head-fat-fuck Bagman.

And seeing as I'm the _junior_ secretary, not only do I take orders from my 'boss', Owen Boister (what kind of name is _Boister_?), who happens to be Ludo Bagman's secretary's secretary (meaning Owen's 'boss' is Clive Hester who's boss is Ludo), I too, must take orders from Boister's_senior_ secretary, Jason Jameson.

Sumb Jason Jameson who thinks he's a god. I mean, he's only one step ahead of me. Plus, he's what - twenty-seven? Hahahaha. But I'll probably still be_junior_ secretary by the age of twenty-seven, so I really shouldn't be laughing that much.

What I don't like about my job the most is that Boister_expects_ me to call him 'boss'. Technically. he's not my boss. Ludo Bagman's my boss. And he's the boss of everyone else in the Department, seeing as he's head anyway. But nope, I must call Boister boss. Or he'll dock off some of my pay. Fucking bastard.

So here I am, five years out of Hogwarts, working as a Junior secretary to Ludo Bagman's secretary's secretary.

You know, out of my year, I was voted as most likely to succeed. Katie Bell; prefect, gryffindor Chaser, eleven OWLs - nine O's, two E's - and eleven NEWTs. I had a roll! And look at where I am now.

What pisses me off the most is that the dunces seem to have it going for them. My meaning?

Fred and George Weasley. Three OWLs each. Estimation of thirty detentions per month each, since first year. Never finished school, didn't take NEWTs. Blew up the Gryffindor common room back when I was a first year and they second. And where are _they_? Oh, they're successful businessmen. Who own their own company and business. Who have just expanded into chain stores. And are rich as hell. They're hosting a mini 'celebration' of their new 'chain' of success in two days time. Which I'm invited to. I swear, they're solely doing it to irritate me. They know of my working status.

Lee Jordan. Seven OWLs, quidditch commentator, six NEWTs. Not the brightest bulb when it comes to school. Yet, why is he commentating for the Wimbourne Wasps? And don't get me started on his paycheck.

I have nothing against these three gentlemen. In fact, we're still all very close friends - surprisingly. I didn't think they would keep in touch with me; afterall, I was a year below them and didn't hang around them as much as Angelina Johnston or Alicia Spinnet. But we've managed a friendship. Oh, and Alicia and Angelina too, seeing as Angelina's with Fred and Alicia's Angelina's best friend and all.

But what bugs me the most is that the most likely to succeed student_did_ succeed. She got her wish; to be accepted into the Ministry of Magical Games and Events. But then her dream gave up on her, and she's here, at the moment sitting pathetically in her cubicle, doodling - or making continuous circles with her quill - on a parchment of her 'boss' that she's suppossed to be looking over.

And it doesn't help that I'm a single woman. Everyone's got someone nowadays. Lee's got some girl I don't know. Fred has Angelina. George is currently flitting from woman to woman, and even Alicia - who has the lowest self-esteem ever I might add - has landed herself a boyfriend.

Look at me, I'm the only pathetic loser of the group.

It's not cool how thigns tend to backfire on me. I mean, hey - I was popular back in school! Not to be popous or anything, but being a Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team has its perks. I was part of the team that, for the first time since the legendary Charlie Weasley had been captain, did Gryffindor House actually win the Quidditch Cup. I had many admirers, such as Roger Davies, Cormac McLaggen, Michael Corner, and even little Colin Creevey. Creppy, yes, but hey - it was still flattering.

So howcome I'm still alone?

Maybe I should stop complaining so much. I know other people who have had worse times than myself. Like Harry Potter. Saving the world at such a young age. But he's and Auror now, so I guess that beats my job with a ten point hit.

"_Bell! What are you doing_?"

Oh shit.

"_You are suppossed to be analyzing that parchment_!"

Double shit.

"_And now you're Drawing on it_?"

Well, let's just say my job is full of shit.

I look up meekly from my desk. And there, standing in front of me, bold a brass, is my 'boss'. With - oh, that little snitch - Jason Jameson at his heels, smirking.

"I was reading this, sir," I answer quickly, putting down my quill and straightening my posture.

"Reading? You call drawing - what are those, circles? - _reading_?" Boister screeched, grabbing the parchment from my fingertips.

"Honest, sir - "

"Honest? When have you ever been _honest_?"

Ouch. That hurts. But I don't blame him. I admit, I have told a few white lies during my five year span at the place. But white lies mean lies that save people from getting hurt with the truth. Like that time I told Jameson that Ludo Bagman would deny his Christmas gift of his crystalized fruit basket. Okay, that wasn't true - Ludo Bagman would accept anything free. But he gave the basket to me instead. So it really did work both ways.

"I told you, Mr. Boister," James says, leaning over Boister's left shoulder. "You really should keep an eye on her - she seems preoccupied these days."

I swear, that dumbass is out to get me.

"And right you are, Jameson!" cries Boister, turning around to face the dirty half-assed rat. "Which is whyyou and Bell will now be doing paperwork together! I _am_ a genius, thinking up ways to save time and whatnot."

Now it's my turn to smirk. Jameson's face turns suddenly pale, his smile going down by notches.

"But sir - " he says, but is cut off by Boister.

"Don't argue with me, boy!" (I don't know why he calls him 'boy' when he himself is just thirty) "You're the one who said she needed to be watched over! With you, not only will Bell here be watched over, but things will get done in half the time!"

Not wanting to get into a feud with Boister, Jason Jameson stalks out of my cubicle, looking defeated. Well, he doesn't need to look that bummed out! It's bad enough that I now have to work with him - but he doesn't need to make it out like it's the worst thing in the entire world. Gosh.

"I expect you to give me a full report on the parchment by noon, Bell," Boister commands, raising his eyebrows at me. "I do not want to ever, _ever_, see this pish-posh again."

"Yes, sir."

This is unbelieveable.

I hate working with Jameson. He's rude, aggravating, boisterous, arrogant, pompous, loudy, demanding and all other things negative. I remember this one time, after a couple of months since I've been accepted to this dump, we were paired to do an assignment together. I was what - eighteen? Yeah, and he was twenty-three. Voldemort was still here. We were suppossed to sort out another complication dealing with Ludo and the goblins (yet again, surprise surpirse). Well, we had a feeling that these particular set of goblins were still on the good side - meaning they weren't on anyone's side. And when we got there, all that stupid guy did was yell at me to go up to _Norfglote_ - who apparantly, is the chief goblin of the_Gwigglediggle_ clan - and sort it out. While he stood there, doing absolutely nothing. And after we finished, all he did was yell at me saying I wasn't persuadable enough, and how he could've done a better job. Yeah, better job my ass. He literally pissed his pants off.

"_BELL_!"

What the hell did I do now?

"Oi! Get your owl, Bell! It's going to peck down our windows!"

I look frantically around, and there, at the opposite end of the floor, flittering around madly, is my beautiful brown owl, Scoop. I run to the window, ignoring the yells coming from my co-workers.

"You know, the owl can just fly into the building, Bell!"

"That owl is always here!"

"Get that thing, trained, Bell! It's driving everyone _crazy_!"

I open the window quickly, and grab Scoop, returning to my raggedy cubicle, once again, flanked by unwatned comments from my co-workers.

"You need a new owl, Bell."

"How is it that your owl can cause this much disruption?"

"Great going, Bell. Your owl made me lose my train of thoughts."

Train of thoughts! We work at the Department of Magical Games and Events! Not much brain power is needed for what we do! Well, for my job yes, seeing as all I ever do is persuade goblins - which requires a _huge_ amount of thinking as they're stubborn as stone - and going over parchments.

"So, Scoop. What do you have for me today?" I ask my owl, who is now in the safety of my cubicle, resting on my desk.

He holds out his leg, with a letter attatched to it. I untie the string, taking the letter with me.

_Greetings, Katie!_

_Just a small reminder that the party's the day after tomorrow. Which means in two days. That's a sunday, so George and I are hoping it's convinient for you. You can bring a guest if you want - just make sure they don't mind being pranked on. Not that we'd be pranking you, of course!_

_Hoping to see you soon,  
Fred Weasley  
Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes_

He's just doing all this to spite me. He knows my boss hates interruption of any kind during working hours. He knows I'll be there and that I don't need a reminder. He gave me an invitation three week prior from the date of the party, and for two whole weeks, every day he's sent me a stupid reminder. He knows sunday is convinient for me, since Boister doesn't come in on sundays. And he knows I'll wind up going alone, since I don't have a guest to bring with me. Or a boyfriend, which is what he's hinting at. He is such a prick sometimes. Worse than Percy. But what the hell - he's still one of my best friends.

So in two day's time, I shall not only be the only one there sans date, but I will be the one with the most pathetic life. In all aspects. Knowing Fred and George, their idea of a mini celebration is probably some big fiesta with everyone they know invited. Heh.

I think I'll continue to doodle my circles on this damned piece of parchment.


	2. Unexpected Reunions

**a/n:** well, what can i say? thanks for the people who have actually taken the time to read and review this. makes me smile.

and thanks _forbiddenlight_, for adding me to you c2! my very first one ever!

and for _spexy_, the feeling sorry for herself, patheticness is part of the plot. she's been dreaming about the fabulous life that when reality hits her, everything comes crashing down. and its made her depressed enough to feel sorry for herself. ah?

so enjoy this story and **keep reviewing**. _seriously. _

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So I was right. This party did turn into some big celebration. 

And they've decided to hold it on some big field at the back of their shop.

By the way, I hate big gatherings. It's just another way for me to make myself look or act like a booger.

Although I dreaded to come to this stupid thing, I did have a hard time choosing what to wear. I mean, I have to look nice. Not only is this party Fred and George's big celebration of chain shops, but hey - a girl's gotta look nice, no? So after hours of preparation - I woke up extra early to do this, and it is now a bit past noon - I finally decided on my perfect outfit. A nice brown skirt with a sleeveless red top. Not bad. Classy yet casual. Aren't I the greatest dresser? I look absolutely stunning -

"George, where are ze dreenks?"

I look over to my left. I recognize that voice, even if I hadn't heard itin over however many years. I'm not exactly sure who it belongs to, but it irks a tingling in my brain. Oh, there she is.

Fleur Delacour. What on earth she's doing here, I have no clue. I didn't know the twins knew Fleur personally. Maybe she's one of George's flings. No - wait! They told me once... what is it? Oh yeah - she's married to their brother, Bill. Oh Bill. Always the nice one. And he's married to some ditz.

Did I mention she's wearing something that looks gorgeous on her? But then again, she looks gorgeous in anything. So nevermind, I'm not the greatest dresser in the world. See how everything backfires on me? Exactly.

Plus, the woman is pregnant. Pregnant women have always scared me. They have this look of eternal PMS on their faces. I don't blame them though - they're carrying a boulder in their stomachs. That must be painful. They also have to push something the size of a football through something the size of a dime. I guess I can understand the PMS looks. But they don't need to go bitching around at every person in sight.

But Fleur, on the otherhand, doesn't have the look of PMS on her face. Even if she is pregnant, she still looks beautiful in her stupid sundress. Her bulge just makes her look that much more wholesome. God, I hate pretty girls... piss me off to the moon.

"Oh my goodness, Katie! Is that you?"

Oh my gosh. Someone knows me.

"Over here, Katie! Over here!"

Looking up, I see Angelina Johnston hurrying my way. Great. Just what I need. Now, I love Angelina with all the love I can muster. But sometimes, it just really, _really_ bothers me how everything for her goes the right way.

Look at her. Still tall, regal and beautiful. Even if I consider myself to be tall - I'm 5'7 - I am nothing compaired to her. She's 5'11. I hate that. She's as tall as Fred, who so happens to be her boyfriend. See? Looks, height, smarts, boyfriend - she has _everythin__g._

"Hi Angelina! It's so good to finally see you," I say, when she reaches me. I give her a feeble smile, hoping she'll buy it.

And she does. "I can't believe you're here! When have we last seen each other?"

Before she gives me time to answer, I feel myself suffocating. So this is what being tightly hugged feels like. It's not as great as those girls make it out to be, I'll tell you that. My hair is being messed up.

"I think," I squeak, as she tightens her grip, "it was last Christmas."

"That's over half a year! Where are you hiding yourself?"

In my crap cubicle on the seventh floor, on the left hand corner near the end. Oh, that and my apartment.

"Well, Angelina, I'm a working girl," I tell her, keeping my thoughts to myself. "At least I made it today."

"Glad you did!" She gives me a thump on my back, causing me to choke on my own spit. "Boy, have I got some news for you!"

Whatever it is, I know it'll make my self-pity heighten.

"Can you believe it?" she suddenly shrieks, throwing out her right hand.

Something blinding flashes at me. Wow, that really does hurt... Anyway, what is that? I peer closely, leaning down to get a better glimpse. So I was right. It did increase my self-pity. On her stupid middle finger sits a ring. Not just any ring. And engagement ring. With the largest, brightestest, clearest diamond upon it. Even if she won't be married at twenty-three, at least she's engaged. I'm not even close.

"He just proposed last week!" she squeals, giving me the widest grin I've ever seen her bare.

I muster up the biggest I'm-so-happy-for-you-but-really-I'm-not smile to her. "Congratulations! I knew someone was bound to tame him"

"Tame me? Never!"

We both turn to the right, and there is Fred, striding up to us. When he gets to us, he puts an arm around Angelina, with a smile big enough to rival his fiance's.

Happy couples make me sick.

"So, when's it going to be?" I ask. Better not be this summer. We're just a month away from it. And I plan to use it to my full advantage; bynot facing happy couples that make me sick.

"July seventeen!" Fred announces, positively beaming.

It's as if they can read minds. Why is it that it has to be in the summer? If it's in July, I'll be spending the rest of August moping with the lowest of self-esteem.

"So soon?" I ask. Maybe this will change their minds.

"We've been together for five years, Katie," Angelina says, looking at me seriously. "I think that's long enough. Besides, Fred's going to be a bit busy with his new stores. Better early than never."

Odd, isn't the saying _'better late than never'_? Why can't they have it late? Ugh.

"Well, Katie, hate to be a prick," Fred says, smirking at me. Stupid prick. "But I've got to show off my lovely wife-to-be to my mother. We'll just leave you here to mingle with guests. There are a few of the old Hogwarts crew around. And there are drinks on the other side. Stay away from the third table from the left. George played around with the delicacies."

And once more, I'm left to myself again. I hate this. I knew I shouldn't have come. Oh well, might as well just... mingle around with the rest of the guests.

Walking around, there are quite a few people I do recognize. There's Harry Potter. With Ginny. Why, yes, of course. They went out for a bit - or so my friend Leanne told me. Funny, I haven't spoken to Leanna since graduation. I wonder where she is? Whatever. Ron Weasley, walking around with Hermione Granger. And she's carrying a baby in her arms. A baby with bushy red hair. Great. Even Hermione and Ron are a step ahead of me. Wait no, they've gotten engaged, married, and now they have a kid. So technically, it's three steps.

There's Alicia Spinnet, her arms linked with some bloke I don't know, having a conversation with another two blokes I don't know. She catches my eye, and gives me a cheery wave and an apologetic look. That's alright. I'm in no mood to be talking to anyone who's in a relationship. Or anyone who has a better job than me. Or anyone who's better than me in every way possible.

I've reached the drinks table. Let's see, one, two three - better stay away from table three. Making my way to table five, I take a small paper cup, filling it with some sort of green liquid. Typical - George's favourite colour is green. So's mine, but only George is weird enough to serve green drinks at a party.

Standing aside, I sip slowly from my cup as someone new reaches the table. He has short, messy brown hair with streaks of gray. His robesare a bit tattered, and he doesn't seem to care that they aren't tied. Well, at least he has a shirt and pants underneath. Wait a bit - I know this man!

"Professor Lupin?"

The man looks up at me, with a startled expression. He raises an eyebrow at me.

"Professor, it's me! Katie Bell?"

He looks at me, still a bit confused, but now it hits him. He cracks a small smile. I always liked Professor Lupin. He was the only teacher that had a bit of humour - besides Dumbledore. He was always nice about everything, like Flitwick. And he let us off easy. Plus, he'd sometimes even let Fred and George go on with their pranks. Not that Lupin hasn't ever pranked us. He set invisble extra-strong glue to our stools once. He's the only professor ever known to pull a stunt.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Miss Bell," he says quietly. He was always too quiet, Lupin. But whatever. He was nice. "You were one of the more successful students of your year. Or so it went around the grapevine."

All I can do is nod at the last bit. Most successful of my year. Yet, I'm still the junior secretary to someone's secretary's secretary. Life really _is_ a bitch.

"So what is it that you do now?" he asks, looking interested. Great.

"Uh, I'm at the Department of Magical Games and Events," I reply, hoping he wouldn't question any more.

And thankfully, he doesn't. He always does get the subtle hints. "That must be... interesting."

"Oh, yes, it really is! I do get a lower price on quidditch tickets."

That's about the only thing good about my position. Cheap quidditch tickets.

"It must be very fun, working for magical games. My friend - "

But he was cut off, as there was suddenclash coming from behind us. He whips around, searching for the noise. And there, in a pile of chairs, sits a young woman of about thirty-something, with vividly bright pink hair. That's cool - an adult with pink hair.

"Excuse me," Lupin says, smiling. "I've er... my wife has gotten caught in a mess of chairs."

I look back at the woman. That's his _wife_? Wow. My old teacher is married to a younger woman with pink hair.

"It was nice talking with you!" I call out to his back. He turns his head and smiles, then makes his way towards his wife. I can see her face now. She looks gorgeous! My old teacher - who must be forty-something by now - is married to a beautiful, younger woman with pink hair. Whoa - her hair's... violet now. Is she a metamorphmagus? Lupin sure knows how to choose his women. Even my old teacher's married. Am I that pathetic? I think so.

Oh well. Might as well just sit down now. Not in those chairs that have just fallen. What if I sit on them and then I fall too? I'll just sit around those tables. I walk towards the tables, choosing one near the end to my left. Nobody usually notices the people at the end. I might as well just sit here. Besides, there's a nice umbrella to cover up the sun. Bliss.

Munching on a few cookies I had taken from the snacks table, I look curiously around me. Fred and George do have an odd array of guests. I can see Hagrid, with a giant trailing behind him. Mr amd Mrs Weasley, having a talk with Fred and Angelina. Alicia still linked by the arm, in deep conversation with the two other people. A little boy with messy jet black hair, sans glasses, who looks just like Harry. Oh that figures. There's harry, chasing after the little boy. He looks a bit like Ginny too. Two other little boys with light orange hair, hanging onto each of Bill Weasley's legs. Cho chang - howI hate her - with her magnificent black hair spraying in the wind, talking to Cormac McLaggen. Interesting. I didn't the Fred and George liked McLaggen. I mean, I know I didn't. Stupid lousy git in my year who can't play Keeper to save his life -

"Katie Bell?"

And here I thought, no one would notice me.

I look behind me, and there he stands. One of the most famous men in England. The fastest, rising young star. The quidditch player that seems to be talked about in my department like a god. My very first quidditch captain of the Gryffindor House Quidditch Team. Oliver Wood.

"It's me, Oliver Wood. Remember me?"

Now, that has by far got to be the dumbest question I've ever had, asked to me. How can I not remember Oliver Wood? Not only did he yell at me during every practice I could remember, but he's famous. One of the tallest boys to ever walk the halls of Hogwarts - not to mention, one of the most craziest. I remember him sending an owl to my dorm window at night, calling me for practice. I remember how he'd go through all lengths to disable the Slytherins. How he slipped Marcus Flint a sleeping potion during dinner. How he managed to track me down in the corridors between classes to give metips on stealing the quaffle.I remember how hard he thumped me on the back when I had a good practice. And when we won the Quidditch Cup, he kissed us all - all, including the boys.

And did I mention he's famous? As stated previously, he's the fastest rising star. From Puddlemere to the Wimbourne Wasps, Oliver has been the talk of the past year. Now named as the starting Keeper for the team, he's gone internationally famous. And all the office ever talks about is him. Of course, I never mentioned that I knew him. No one would believe that anyway. Not that anyone would even care, seeing as I'm the junior secretary of Ludo Bagman's secretary's secretary.Of course I remember him.

He comes over to my table, taking a seat beside me. Many girls of many ages seem to like Oliver. Not for his skills as a Keeper, but because they think he's good-looking. I'll admit that, I too, find him handsome, but sometimes, one can only bare that much talk of the great Oliver Wood.

"Oh, you don't remember me," he says, looking a bit put out.

A shake my head and smile. "Of course I remember you, Oliver. How can't I? You gave me this scar."

I pull up my shirt a bit to reveal a slightly off-coloured bit of my skin. He had once, back in my third year, grabbed the bat from Fred's hands, in attempt to show him how to beat a bludger. In my opinion, it was a lost cause seeing as Fred and George were the best beaters I've ever witnessed. And Oliver, not looking around the pitch, had whipped the bludger at me, while I was having a warm-up catch game with Alicia and Angelina. Yes, that sent me to the hospital wing.

"Well, I'm sorry for that, Katie," he tells me, flashing a smile. "But you guys had to learn to be tough."

And tough we were. Being on Oliver's team gave us much endurance. How we practiced in storms, blizzards, and every other type of bad weather. How he made us run across the pitch in full padding - why we had to _run_, I still don't know. And while we did all of our push-ups, there he'd be, yelling in our ears.

"So how have you been?" I ask, grabbing a cookie. That's a stupid question. The whole of England has been up on the life of fab Oliver Wood.

"Strange, haven't you read about me?" he asks cockily, raising and eyebrow. "No, I'm kidding! I've been doing wonderfully."

"Yeah you have. What with dating a Weird Sister and all," I comment, swallowing the cookie.

He chuckles at me, crossing his arms and putting them behind his head. "I'll admit, that was fun."

"She was what - eight years your senior?"

"No, nine actually. But it was good while it lasted."

"I thought you two were still going strong."

"Why, have you not read today's headlines? _'Oliver Wood; Split with Weird Sister Atisa Belogne, after three months'_."

"Sorry, Oliver," I say, laughing. "I didn't read anything this morning."

He shakes his head, smiling. "Eh, it's old news anyway. We were done a few weeks ago anyhow. I'm tired of talking about me. You can read up on me on Witch Weekly's Magazine, issue 98165. What about _you_?"

I laugh inwardly about his last cocky comment about himself. But now, my smile falters. I hate it when people ask about me.

"What about me?" I say, trying to sound light. But as always, I can never pull that tone off.

"What have you been up to?"

"Oh, you know, this and that."

"Well, no, I don't know this and that. Would you care to enlighten me?" he questions, resting his head on his right hand. Great. When people do that, it means they have all the time in the world to listen to you. Now is not one of those time I like to be paid attention with.

"I'm with the Ministry."

His face brightens. "Well, you always were a smart one, Katie. Which department?"

"Magical Games and Events."

And now his head is off his hand. "You work at the Department of Magical Games and Events? I knew you had it in you to keep your quidditch spirit alive!"

He gives me what he thinks is a light push on my left arm. But Oliver was always stronger than he intended. And now that he's a Keeper for the Wasps, his strength has only increased. He pushed me back into my chair.

"Oh gosh - I'm sorry!" he cries, pulling me back into my previous sitting position. "God, I'm such a rude ass! Sorry!"

"It's okay," I reply in a strangled voice. "I'm used to it."

Immediately, his eyes narrow. "You're _used_ to it? What does that mean?"

"Well, you know - "

"Are people harassing you at your job?"

Now how did a 'friendly' push evolve into harassment at work?

"No, I meant that people seem to give me these friendly pushes or thumps that are much rougher than intended," I explain quickly, in case he gets the wrong idea. He was never one to fully listen to explanations. Like how he lost his patience with Harry when Harry stalled on ordering a new broom.

"That's good to hear." He looks genuinely relieved. "So what's your position?"

It amazes me how he can quickly drop a subject and go to another one.

"I'm uh... a secretary of sorts."

"A secretary? That must be fun!"

"It has its moments."

"Maybe I'll drop by to give you a visit."

"That'd be nice - " Wait a tick... What does he mean, he'll drop by and give me a visit?

"I'm always at the Ministry," he clarifies, looking at me. I probably have this contorted, confused face on. "They always invite me for interviews and whatnot. Or I just go and visit Ludo Bagman. He's always inviting me for lunch."

That's weird. Howcome I never knew Oliver Wood was in the Ministry? On my floor!

He seems to have read my thoughts, for he answered, "Ludo keeps it discreet. You know, disguises. Muggle disguises. They work wonders. Muggles are pretty smart!"

"Yes, they are," I mumble, feeling a bit uncomfortable now.

"So I'll give you a visit next time I'm in the building. Where's your office?"

I don't have an office. I can't tell famous Oliver Wood that I don't have an office. He'll just laugh at me. Or he'll think I'm stupid and sad.

"You know, you don't have to come visit me - " I start to tell him, but he cuts me off.

"Nonsense! I haven't seen you in what - seven years? Yeah, that's right. I haven't seen you in seven years. You're part of my team! Of course I'm going to visit you. What kind of friend do you think I am?"

I smile at his comment. After all these years, ge still considers me his friend. "Part of your _team_?"

"Yes, my team! Team Wood, winners of the Quidditch Cup, year 1993! You are part of my glory."

"Why, that's very generous of you, Oliver."

"What can I say? I'm a generous guy. So are you ever going to tell me where your office is located? I'm running a busy schedule."

I look at him with raised eyebrows. He smiles at me, indicating that even if he is cocky, he just uses it to make jokes. Man, if I had his fame, I would do it too.

"Really Oliver, you don't have come - "

"Fine, fine! I give up. I'll just find my way to you. It can't be that hard."

Wonderful. Just wonderful. Now he's going to look for me. And I will be embarassed. And after that, I'll go home and wallow, once again, in my self-pity.

"Anyway," he says, getting up, looking at his watch. "I wasn't kidding about my schedule. I'm due - _ah_. Will you look at that. I'm twelve minutes late for tea with my mum. Well, if you'll excuse me now, I must say goodluck and congratulations to Fred and George. It was very nice catching up with you, Katie."

With that, he grabs my hand and shakes it - a bit too hard - and dashes off.

In this party alone, I never thought I'd have three reunions. Complete with three surprises. First with Angelina and her engagement with Fred, then learning about Lupin's wife. And now, what I least expected - it didn't even cross my mind - I've met up again with Oliver Wood. And he's going to visit me during work.

That's insane. Why would Oliver Wood, famous Keeper of the Wimbourne Wasps, want to come visit a lowly junior secretary? He's just kidding. Oliver likes to kid. He's kidded with me many times. Like how he told me that there was quidditch practice at 2 a.m. and I was the only one who showed up at the pitch, fully dressed. See? he can't be serious.

Besides, by the time he leaves, he'll probably have forgotten about me. I'm easily forgettable. He's not going to look every office, cubicle, high and low for me. He just saw me after seven years. I'll give it another seven years for our next reunion.

He's too caught up with his fabulous life to give me another thought anyway.


	3. Twas a Month Ago

**a/n:** i love my reviewers. i really do. 8-)

hope you like this chapter. much ado with dialogue in this one. you _might_ not like it - but it's vital to later chapters.

so please, _enjoy_, read and **_review!_**

* * *

"Now, really, Miss Bell! It's not nice to yell"

What a lie. I wasn't yelling. I was just talking a bit loudly. With a negative attitude.

And so would you, if you were told to hand over your wand for being suspected of robbery. Honestly, _robbery?_ Give me a break. I work here. I don't steal from work. That's just sad.

"Please, hand over your wand!"

I shoot an angry glare at Eric Detton, the so-called security guard. He's known me for a full five years. Why am I suddenly stoppped now, and suspected of robbery?

"Now, Miss Bell," says Eric, tapping his foot harshly on the ground.

In response, I cross my arms, turning my head away. "No."

"I am security! And if I suspect something, then I will investigate it!"

"I've been here for five years! Why on earth would I want to rob the Ministry!"

At this comment, a dozen witches and wizards stop in their tracks and stare at us. Let them stare. I didn't do nothing wrong. All I did was enter the building.

"Miss Bell - "

"I'm coming into the building, Eric! How could I possibly be stealing if I'm _entering_ the damn building!"

"You are suspected of robbery, Miss Bell! They pay me to investigate, and investigate I shall!" he shrieks, his face now turning purple.

"Well then, you should use some of thatmoney to buy you a clue!" I retort. "Besides, why would you want my wand, if - hypothetically speaking - I have stolen something?"

"So when we search you, you don't use your wand against us! Now will you hurry up and hand me your wand? I don't have all day!"

And neither do I. I have a report to be working on for the latest match of the Wasps against the Celtic Sprites. And I have a presentation. I guess there really is no point in arguing with the man. I mean, he_is_ ten times larger than me, stronger than me, and of course, he can report to the Minister and the Wizengamot. Now, would I want to go for a hearing, or do I just give in?... Stupid Eric.

"Here." I jab my wand towards the man. He makes a grab for it, and pushes me between to bars. Probably detectors of whatever I'm suppossed to have 'stolen'. I, Katie Justice Bell, do not steal. I do not stoop so low as to steal. I make enough gold - I have no use for stealing. Besides, is my middle name not _Justice?_

He then takes out his own wand, and mutters a weird charm that hovers me. I hate it when people do that - you never know what's going to happen. In this case, it's just like being stunned. Except I can still talk. But I'm not talking. Nope, I'm too angry to talk.

"Are you satisfied?" I grunt, after the charm was lifted off. Brushing invisible dirt off my shoulders, I make a grab for my wand. "I didn't do anything. Can I go? Some of us have a tight schedule today."

"Well, carry on!" he cries, ushering me out of the way.

Gee. What an apology.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I want to disappear. I want to vanish into complete nothingness. But more than that, I want to turn back time.

If I could, my presentation wouldn't have been that crappy. I wouldn't have accidentally fired a jinx at Clive Hester, who's Ludo Bagman's secretary. I swear, he's going to report this to Ludo. And then I will be fried. I also wouldnt have tripped and fallen backwards, right onto the lap of Jameson. And if that weren't embarassing enough, I sneezed into Boister's face. Gross, yes, I know. But it just came out!

Yet, if I could turn back time, I'd turn it back to six years back, warning myself to have never gotten into this stupid branch of profession.

"Gosh, Bell. I didn't know you thought so much of yourself."

And I thought today could get no worse.

"What do you want, Jason?" I mutter, glaring up at the figure who now appeared, leaning at the opening of my cubicle.

"Since when have you ever called me Jason?" he asks smirking at me.

"What do you want?"

"Funny, I was going to ask you the same question."

I look at him, with my mouth open. I'm confused. "Excuse me?"

"I didn't know you'd give lap dances during work. Very brave of you, dear."

A lap dance! The nerve of this guy! "What!"

"You don't remember? You were in the middle of discussing the latest rendition of the Wronski Feint, and _bam_there you were, in my lap."

"That wasn't a lap dance!" I cry, standing up.

I shouldn't have stood up. People are now looking at me like I'm a blasphemy. Right. So now, I'll be known as the girl who gave Jason Jameson a lap dance during her presentation of the Wronski Feint. Just what I wanted.

"Then what was it?" he asks, smiling innocently at me, his stupid teeth showing.

"I just accidentally tripped on the leg of your chair and fell on you! Besides, a lapdance consists of the dancer facing you, and bobbing up and down. If I weren't mistaken, my back was not only towards you, but I wasn't bobbing up or down! And, I had gotten as quickly off of you as I could!"

"Of course."

"Really, Jameson! I - "

"So we're back on last name terms?"

"We were never on first name - "

"You just called me Jason a few moments ago."

"Just, just _GO AWAY!_"

And all he does is smile. I knew it. He's out to get me. He gets up, gives me a cheery wave, leaving me to sit there looking like a complete idiot.

Today is so unreal. I can't believe I fell into Jameson's lap. That is just the most horrific thing to ever happen. _Ever_. Oh wait no - scratch that. Sneezing on Boister's face is worse. Think about it. I _sneezed_ on his _face_. _And_ jinxing Clive Hester - I really don't know how that one happened. Well, I do.

See, I was walking around the room, talking about Wronski Feints, with my wand in my hand. And I guess I never was able to control those silent spells. All you have to do is think and point. Of course, I didn't intend to actually perform the jinx, but while walking around, I was thinking '_Impedimenta_'. Maybe I shouldn't go around with my wand in the air, thinking about Impediments. He is so going to tell Ludo. I just know it.

I need a break. And good thing it's almost noon. This building - and the people in it - are really starting to bug me.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"I can't believe you did that, Katie."

And once more, neither can I.

"No offense or anything, but that's a bit dumb."

Yes, I know that.

"And honestly - you gave Jason a lap dance!"

That, I did not.

So my lunch break isn't turning out to be any sort of relief. Here I am, sitting with my so-called 'friend', who's lecturing me - or in my opinion, insulting me - about my morning presentation. Which I should also mention, I was late for due to stupid Eric and his stealing case.

"Gosh, Nasuada. You make it sound like I'm the biggest whore in the office."

Nasuada Keele is one of my only friends in the whole Ministry. She was also in my year a school, but we never spoke until we ended up in the Ministry together. She was a Ravenclaw. And you know those Raveclaws. _Birds of a feather, stick together_. Hence that fact that they were in _Ravenclaw_. But really - they did hang out only amongst themselves. Very secluded bunch, in my year. It was as if the rest of us were contaminated. It was just them - them and their stupid super-high-unordinary brain power.

But Nasuada soon grew out of that phase. Well, she only did when she learnt that she was the only one entering the Ministry of her friends. And thus, she bumped into me on the elevator. She works for the Department of Transportation, specialising in the Floo Network. I don't mention anything to her, but I think it's one of the most boring jobs ever in the Ministry. Though, of course, before she met me, Nasuada was a pretty boring person. She isn't any more. She's learned to live a little. See what being in Ravenclaw can do to people? Not being stereotypical or anything.

"So what are you doing after?" she asks, taking a swig from her cup of carrot juice. Not only are Ravenclaws ultra smart, but they're ultra healthy too. I think it maintains brain cells.

"Reading over a few reports," I answer offhandedly. "I'm now officially working with Jameson."

Nasuada knows Jameson. Nasuada likes Jameson. Nasuada thinks he's a sweetheart. Nasuada is messed.

"Well, that's good! He's such a hard worker, you know," she comments, giving me an encouraging smile.

I scowl at her. "Working with_Jameson?_ You're off your rocker."

"He's not half bad - "

"He doesn't do shit. Well, I take that back. He does do things. Like yell at me. Or make fun of me. Or torment me."

"You just provoke him."

I laugh out loud in my chair, which causes an army of heads our way. "I don't provoke him. He does it to make himself feel better."

"Really, Katie, he's a nice - "

"Gosh, Nasuada. If you like him that much, why don't you just ask him out?"

At this comment, she turns very red. "I don't like him, Katie! Besides, I have a boyfriend."

And alas, she does. Doesn't everyone? Oh - I don't. That's right.

"Maybe he likes you." She makes a fake cough. "Besides, he's not ugly or anything..."

Which is true. As hard as it is for me to admit, it is true. Jason Jameson isn't ugly looking. He, in fact, is actually great looking. With his nice, wavy brown hair, small stubble, and lean figure, he looks marvelous. I guess it makes up for his ugly ego. If he weren't so pompous, I'd like him. I'd even go out with him... but nope. He just blows his chances with his stupid ambition. I don't know what he's aiming at. All I know is that one of his targets is me. To shoot me down lower than my current standings.

"I highly doubt that," I say, my eyes narrowing at her. "And I wouldn't stoop so low as to go out with him. He doesn't like me. Have you not been listening to me rant on about him for the past half decade?"

"You just have to give him a chance."

"Why?"

"Because, I'm sure he's a very decent person deep down."

"I personally believe his heart is made of stone."

"Katie."

"You're just too nice, Nasuada. It's one of your faults."

"If you say so."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Alright. Just another two hours of report analysis and I'm done for the day. And when I get back home, I can forever obliviate today from my memory.

Anyway, what's up with this report? Gobstones? I don't like Gobstones. I don't know how to play Gobstones. I've had bad expirience with Gobstones, when that stupid shit they squirt landed in my eye back in first year. Stupid Gobstones... figures Jameson would give me the boring reports to analyze. That jerk.

What is this thing about? Should they increase the amount of liquid in the stone? What kind of report is this? Why would anyone, in their right minds, want to insert more liquid into the already soaked stone? This is an outrage! I'm wasting my precious time because some fink wants to increase the amount of liquid in each stone! Who comes up with these things? I bet it's old people. They have nothing better to do. That, or those die-hard Gobstone fanatics. Like Marcine Yusuf. God, if there were a bigger fan of Gobstones, I'd like to meet them. Because Marcine really bugs me. And she's what - eight cubicles away from me! You might think it's a lot, but no, it's not. Since our cubicles are so fucking small, all it takes is five and a half steps to get from mine to Marcine's. And let's be frank people - it's not too cool.

This abomination of a report is pissing me off right now. Why is today such a bad day? And I don't want to say that it can't get any worse. Because every time I say it, something worse always happens. _Always._

What a dumb job. Stupid mother fucking report about Gobstones. Why can't Marcine have this? She'll gladly give her input on such situation. I swear, if Jameson has the Quidditch report, I will so kick his ass.

"Katie?"

I'm in the middle of analyzing a report. I don't need any more disturbances.

"Katie?"

Maybe if I don't answer, they'll go away.

"Katie!"

"What?" I grumble irritably, tearing my eyes away from the scroll. But immediately, my face falls.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. _Noooooooo..._

This isn't suppossed to happen. Not now, not _ever_. It's been a month! You'd think he'd forget it. _Maaaaannnnn_, even _I_ forgot about it! Really, I did. I hadn't counted on it. What is this boy doing back here? Why is he here? Why did he remember me? Why is it that the world is always on the look out for me? See? Bad days will _keep getting worse_.

"Are you okay?"

No, I'm not okay. This isn't good. Nope.

Great.

"Oliver!"I exclaim, putting on a fake smile. "What a..._pleasant_ surprise!"

"Did I catch you at a bad time?"

You bet your ass you did.

"No. No no no, not at all!"

And without warning, he comes into my cubicle. My private santuary. That isn't suppossed to be seen by the likes of him.

He's dressed like a muggle. I know how muggles dress, what with being muggle-born myself. And I have to say, he's dressed alright. I mean, I've seen witches and wizards make an ass out of themselves by trying to dress muggley. They really can't match muggle clothes. I've seen a wizard wearing overalls, sans shirt, a short skirt, and to top it all off, wearing combat boots.

But no, not Oliver. Because Oliver has a reputation to keep. He's dressed like a proffessional muggle. A red plaid shirt, unbottoned with a white shirt underneath, and jeans. Oh, and he's wearing his glasses. Sunglasses of course. His 'camouflage'.

He sees me taking in his appearance. "Pretty good, eh?"

And still as cocky as the last time I've seen him. "I must say, you did quite well with the dressing."

"Yes, well, muggles do invent some good clothing. I mean, you can just only get enough with robes sometimes."

"So no one has spotted you, I take it."

"Astonishingly, no, not yet."

Which, in my opinion, is quite astonishing. Even with his 'disguise', he still looks like himself. And it's even more astonishing that the people in the office don't recognize him. If they talk about him and know so much about him, how can the possibly not recognize him when he still looks the same? And to think purebloods prize themselves as _'intelligent beyond compare'_. Witches and Wizards are quite thick.

"Why are you here?" I ask bluntly, looking at him curiously.

He's sitting in my guest chair, a bit stiff. Well, this is what happens when you're in a cubicle. You don't get much room.

"I told you I'd drop by," he replied, raising an eyebrow at me.

"That was a month ago."

"I keep my word, Miss Bell."

"But it was a month ago."

"Incase you're wondering, the bludgers haven't damaged my brain. My memory is still as good as ever."

"It was a month ago, Oliver!"

"Trying desperately to make sense of the situation, but... nope."

This guy is seriously strange. "You're suppossed to have forgotten about me! It was a month ago!"

He gives me a weird look. "Why would I forget about you? I don't forget my friends."

"Because! I _don't_ matter!"

"You _do _matter. You matter very much to me."

Well, that was sweet.

"I came to see you,' he says evenly, looking at me in the eyes. "Because I wanted to. And because I told you I would. So here I am. Just giving a friendly visit. Promise."

"How did you find me?" I ask. How _did_ he find me?

"Well, like I said, I looked for you. It wasn't that hard."

"Where?"

"Well, at first, I figured you'd have an office, seeing as you're a secretary of sorts. But then you didn't occupy any of them, so all that was left were these... squares."

"_Cubicles?_" I breathe heavily.

"Right, if you say so. And so, I just peeked into every one until I came to yours. It's quite far from the entrance."

"Just how I like it."

"Really? It's quite inconvenient."

"People don't see me as much. Or walk by."

"Oh, sorry. Did you not want me to visit? Is that why you didn't tell me you worked here?"

Of course.

"_No!_" I say, putting on my fake smile again. "Don't be ridiculous! I just didn't think you'd waste your time on me. That's all."

"If you don't want me to be here, I can just go - " he starts, but I cut him off.

"No. Stay, Oliver. Stay. I could use some company anyway. It's dull here."

"But it's the Department of Magical Games and Events. It can't be dull."

"Oh, believe me. It's dull."

"Ludo always seems to be having fun."

Ludo Bagman has _fun?_ When he makes me sort out his shitty goblin problems? It's his fun that lands him with the goblins! What is this? And I have to go clean it up for him? That sick son of a _bitch!_

"Yes, well, Ludo is the head."

"You can still have with if you're not the head. Oh, and can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"You're a secretary, aren't you?"

I have a feeling this is going to go somewhere I don't want it to. "Yes."

"So why are you _here?_"

"Because I work here."

"No, I mean, why are you in a... cubicle?"

I knew it. The question I'm trying to avoid has just slapped itself into my face. What am I suppossed to say? Whatever I do, it will make me look like an idiot. I don't want to embarass myself in front of a guy who I haven't seen in years, let alone the most famous young person in all of England.

"I dunno..."

"Katie." He leans forward, peering closely at me. "Why do you work here?"

"Because!" I cry, feeling more agitated than ever. "I'm a secretary! I'm Ludo Bagman's secretary's secretary's _junior_ secretary! That's why I'm here!"

He just sits there, looking even more confused. "Could we rewind back all the way to Ludo Bagman? I lost count of the secretaries."

I want to punch him right now.

"Ludo Bagman has a secretary," I explain, trying to remain calm. He nods in understanding. "And Ludo Bagman's secretary is Clive Hester."

"I know Clive," he says, his face lighting up. "Such a nice fellow."

"Yeah, whatever. Now, Clive too, has a secretary. And his name is Owen Boister."

"Right..."

"And I'm Boister's junior secretary."

I look at him, trying to see if he understands. His brow is furrowed. Maybe those blugers have done some damage afterall.

"What do you mean by _'junior'_? he asks, his eyes squinting, as if he's trying to think.

"Boister has two secretaries. One senior, one junior. I'm the junior. Which is why I'm here, in the cubicle."

I better not explain it again. It's bad enough to tell the story once, but telling it twice sure will make my day.

"So who's the senior?"

And as if on cue, in walks Jameson. It's like they practice these things.

"Are you done with the Gobstone report Bell?" he asks, oblivious to the fact that I have Oliver Wood right in front of me. Honestly. "I'll be needing it in twenty minutes."

"No," I reply stiffly, not looking at him. "I'll give it to you in twenty minutes."

"It should really be completed by now. You should be using this time to reread your analysis."

"I know how to do reports, Jameson. I'm not stupid."

"You know what, Bell? You really - " But I never got to know what I was. Because at that precise moment, he has finally spotted Oliver.

"Who're you?" Jameson asks bluntly, quirking an eyebrow. "Visitors shouldn't be here."

Oliver turns to look at him. "Who're _you?_"

"I believe I asked you first."

"And I believe I asked you second."

Yes, because this is mature.

"Visitors should be wearing a pin," Jamesons remarks, a smug look on him. "Where's yours?"

"Well," Oliver states, sounding bored. "It's not on my chest. So I don't think it's here."

"You know, I could report you for not having one."

"I don't need one."

"All visitors - "

"Gosh. Relax, square."

Maybe having Oliver here isn't all that bad afterall...

"What did you just call me?" Jameson sneers, crossing his arms.

"A square," Oliver answers indifferently, shrugging. "So aren't you suppossed to be reporting me?"

"Why should I?"

I swear. Jameson is the gayest person I have ever encountered.

"You said you would," Oliver says, now looking oddly at him.

"Then I will."

"Then get to it. You Ravenclaws really are prudes."

"What!" I exclaim, finally coming into the conversation. "_What?_"

Now, I know Jameson is seven years older than me. And that he probably graduated when I was in first year. But I didn't know he went to Hogwarts, let alone be a Ravenclaw.

"Yeah," Oliver says offhandedly. "I just figured out who he is. Took me a while... looks quite different, the bloke.He was in sixth year when I was in first. Ravenclaw, _prefect_ - you know, the whole deal."

Jameson immediately turns rigid. "How do you know?"

"_Uh_, because I went to school with you?"

Jameson now leans in on Oliver. His face is now very pale. "Oliver Wood?" he asks incredelously.

I clap my hand around Jameson's mouth tightly.

"Stop yelling his name," I hiss into his ear. "I don't want the building knowing he's here!"

I'm afraid Jameson will do the exact opposite. He's done many things opposite, just to spite me. It's like he majored in spiting me.

But I'm wrong. He hastily nods his head.

Glaring at Oliver, he says, "You should be thankful I'm not reporting you to Bagman."

In response, Oliver smiles sweetly up to him. "Bagman is the reason I'm here. We just had lunch."

With this comment, Jameson gives Oliver his look of death. I don't think it has much effect, seeing as Oliver just shrugs and turns back to me. I watch Jameson storm off. But of couse, being Jameson, he always has to have the last word.

"Fifteen minutes, Bell! You have fifteen minutes!"

I have fifteen minutes. And I have Oliver Wood in front of me.

"I won't bother you," he says, reading my face. "I'll just sit here quietly, until you're done."

My eyebrows raise at him. "What do you mean you'll sit here quietly until I'm done?"

"It means I'll sit here quietly until you're done."

"Okay...?"

"And after you're done, we can have a nice little talk. But don't waste your breath. You have only... fourteen minutes, thirty-seven seconds."

True to his wrod - as always - Oliver did sit there quietly. And is waiting until I'm done.

But I, on the other hand, am very aware of the fact that Oliver Wood is right in front of me. That the famous Oliver Wood is right here, in my cubicle, on the seventh floor, at the very end, on the very left. That someone as famous as him, is sitting _here_, in a crappy little box.

After my fifteen minutes, Jameson had come in and snatched my report without a word to either of us. Oh well. It's not like I have anything to say to him anyway. He'll just be full of put-downs.

"So!" Oliver says cheerily. He should be cheery. He was scarily silent throughout the entire time. "I take it that Jason is the senior."

I roll my eyes. "Obviously."

"I never liked him. He thought he was all that in quidditch."

Quidditch! Jameson played _quidditch?_ Hahahahahahahahaha!

Oliver seems to have once again read my thoughts. "It's really not that hard to believe."

"Yeah, right," I scoff, laughing in my seat. "Jason Jameson, quidditch player."

"He was a beater."

Which makes me laughs harder. A _beater!_ I always thought Oliver was a funny guy.

"Really!" Oliver insists. "Why do you think he's so skinny?"

I give him a look. "Oliver, you're a quidditch player. You are far from skinny."

He looks offended. "Are you saying I'm fat?"

"No, not fat. Fit. As in, burly."

"Oh, that's good to know. Anyway, he was a beater. Always tried to knock me over. But of course, I'm too good for him."

"You know, you really are a conceited ass."

"Yes, thank you."

He smile at me, wiggling his eyebrows.

"So I was wondering," he says casually, stretching out his arms. "Would you care for a drink?"

I look at him unbelievingly. "Oliver, it's five. You don't drink at five."

"No, I meant in the future. You know, come by my house."

"Your house."

"My house. Were you thinking someone else's house?"

"Your house."

"I believe we've already established that it is indeed, at my house."

"I don't know where you house is."

"I'll take you there."

I give him a suspicious look. "Why at your house?"

He shrugs. "I guess I'm not comfortable in the public eye."

"Whatever happened to the magic of muggle disguises?"

"I make better drinks."

"I'm sure you do."

"Honest! Come by and I'll prove it to you."

My eyes narrow at him. He's serious about me coming to his house. This is unexpected. Should I go to his house? Maybe not... I probably won't feel comfortable there... but then, who would pass up the chance to have a drink with Oliver Wood? In his house! I could live to tell the tale to my family; Katie Bell gets invited to the house of Great Oliver Wood, Keeper of the Wimbourne Wasps. Hmm... decisions, decisions.

"Fine," I finally answer, heaving a sigh. "But if you poison me - "

"I won't."

"Or cause me physical damage - "

"I won't."

"Or find a way to embarass me - "

"That cannot be gauranteed."

"I will find a way to haul your ass."

"Don't worry!" he exclaims, smiling at me. "I won't do anything to you! I'm not that kind of guy."

"So what kind of guy are you?" I ask, crossing my arms, leaning against my chair.

He strokes his chin. "You know, I don't know. But I'm the good kind.."

"Right."

"So how's sunday for you?"

"Sunday is fine."

"I'll meet you in front of Eeylops'."

"Why not just the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Because I need to get a new owl. Mine's getting up there in years."

"So why meet in front of Eeylops?"

"Because I'd like some suggestions for a new owl. And I figured, I can have you over for a drink and have you help me pick an owl. See how it all works out perfectly? Exactly."

I shake my head slowly at him, but smiling. "Whatever you say, Oliver."

He glances at his watch. "When are youfinished?"

"I'm actually done now."

"What are you doing later?"

"Nothing much. I want to catch up on my sleep."

He looks a bit put out. "Oh, alright then. I should be leaving anyway."

"What, is your schedule ruined because of me?" I joke, standing up and gathering my belongings.

And once more, his arrogant smirk returns. "Yes, I believe so. I'm suppossed to be at practice. Actually, I was suppossed to be there half an hour ago."

I gape at him. "_Oliver!_"

"Yes, Katie?"

"Aren't you going to... I don't know, _go?_"

"Of course I am."

"_Go!_"

"I'm going!" he cries, shielding his head from my persistent slapping hand. "No need to stick a wand up your ass. I'll leave!"

He gets up, and is about to exit my entrance before turning back to me. "So it's sunday?"

"_Yes!_" I reply exasperately.

"When?"

"I don't know, two?"

"In front of Eeylops!"

"I'll be there, Oliver! Go!"

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise! Now go before you get kicked off the team. I don't want to be the reason you'll be out of work!"

He chuckles at my comment. "Oliver Wood never gets kicked off a team. Oliver Wood kicks others."

And with that, he vanishes out of sight.

I plop down in my chair once more, reality hitting me. Oliver Wood asked me to have a drink with him. Not nonly that, Oliver Wood asked me to go to his house this sunday. Sunday is in five days. And, odd but true, Oliver Wood has asked me to help him hand-pick an owl.

I can honestly say that today has got to be the most uncalled for day I have ever expirienced.


	4. Meet Mortimer

**a/n:** okay everyone. the next chapter has been written.

now, it might _not_ be the _best_ of chapters, but bear with me. the next chapter will be here soon.

**so review!**

* * *

I can't believe I'm here. In Eeylop's Eporium. With feathers sticking on my every inch of clothing. And there's dung everywhere - seriously. Dung on the floor, on the cages, on the counters, almost landing on my head.

Like said, I had arrived in front of Eeylop's - a few minutes late due to my outfit preparations. And Oliver stood there, looking at his watch impatiently. With a quick exchange of greetings, he immediately dragged me into the owl shop.

So here I am. Covered with poo. Or feathers. At the moment, I really don't care. I just want a shower.

"I was thinking of something dark," Oliver started saying, dragging me back into reality. "What do you think?"

"Hmmm?" I mumble unconsciously. "Sorry, did you say something."

"I said, I was thinking of something dark. What do you think?"

"Dark is good."

"Katie, I'm being serious."

"Well, I agree with you! Dark is good!"

He gives me skeptical look, riaising an eyebrow. "And why do you think that?"

Think fast, kid. "Oh, er... you know, it can uh... camouflage itself. You know, so if it goes out at night, it won't be seen... as much?"

"Yeah..." he says, looking suspicious.

We venture further into the shop, where it seems to be getting darker. I don't like Eeylop's. It freaks me out. I know it's the best place to get an owl, since it specializesin owls and whatnot. ButI got mine at that other pet store. What was it called? The Magical Menagerie? I don't know. Something like that. And I much prefer that place - it doesn't smell as much, there are more than one kind of pet, and there isn't poop on every inch of surface.

Besides, walking around in the dark with flaring multi-coloured owl eyes isn't a stroll in the park. It's like they're thinking of attacking me. And why is it suddenly so cold? Urghh it even smells worse here! Look at those freaky pair of eyes, they're -

"Oh my god!" I hear myself shriek. I absent-mindedly slip on something and am about to fall, until a pair of hands grab my flailing ones.

"Wow, Katie," I hear Oliver's voice in the dark, sounding amused. "Never knew you had a fear of the dark."

"I don't!"

Oh, but I do. I really do. I just don't tell anyone. It's sad enough that I'm afraid of the dark, but to let other people know? I'll be a laughing stock.

But that wasn't why I screamed. While we were walking around - in complete darkness - there was a sudden sound.

"Hey, Oliver," I whisper, still hanging onto his arm as we walked around. "What was that weird noise?"

"An owl, flapping its wings."

Wow. That makes me feel better. So I screamed, slipped on whatever it is - I think it's poo - and almost fell, if it were not for Oliver and his supernatural senses. I feel great. Not only am I afraid of the dark, I have now discovered a new fear of falling and owls. Dandy.

I didn't know this stupid place was so long. Long and narrow. And dark. Oh, and smelly. Why am I here? I want out. I don't like it here. I should have never accepted the offer to help him find an owl. I knew something bad was bound to happen. Misfortune lurks behind my every move! I can't stand this place -

_SQUEAK!_

As I had previously let go of Oliver's arm after he told me about the flapping owl, I make a dash for him again.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," I mutter, breathing heavily. "Oh my god, oh my god, _oh - my - god!_"

"Calm down. It's just a rat."

_'Just _a _rat?'_ '_Calm down?'_ _Oh my god!_

"I hate rats!" I cry, hanging onto him tighter. "Why am I here? I hate rats, I hate the dark, and I don't appreciate owls taking dumps on me every other second!"

"Come on," I hear him say calmly, patting my arm. "We're at the end anyway. I'll just choose one quickly."

I mumble something under my breath, gripping his arm. I'm not sure if he's lost blood circulation, but at the moment, I could care less for his bloody arm. I am not coming into the place ever again. And how is he suppossed to choose a friggin bird if it's completely dark here? How is he suppossed to see? I'm just depending on sound, smell and guts.

"So I was thinking about getting a Horned Owl," Oliver says, seeming to forget about the fact that I'm deathly afraid of the place. "But then, I figured, do I really want something that reminds me of Percy Weasley?"

Sometimes, Oliver Wood is the strangest person in the world. I know he shared a dorm with Percy for seven years - and of course, I feel really bad for him, having to deal with Percy's smug attitude. But it's been seven years, for Merlin's sake. Why would he still remember _Percy?_

"Wow, Oliver," I say, with a tone of edginess. "After seven years, after hearing me scream, all you have on your mind is Percy Weasley. How interesting."

"Yes, well, after living with Percy for seven years, he doesn't just erase from your memory," he sniffs, sounding a bit disdained. "I just don't want the owl staring at me and judging me, like stupid Percy Weasley."

"Is there another owl you have on your mind?"

"Uh huh. I was thinking of the Scoop Owl, but they're a bit small, aren't they."

"Knowing you, Oliver, you might mistake it for a snitch."

"I want a Burrowing Owl."

"Then get a one."

"I don't know where it is. I can't see anything."

No kidding.

"Maybe we could go back to the front desk and ask them to bring out all the Burrowing Owls," I suggest, trying hard not to make a run for the light.

"Well, I was thinking - " he starts, but I interrupt him.

"_We are going back to the front_."

Without needing me to tell him twice, he leads us both back to the front, silently. Well, he remained silent. I just shrieked and squealed and held on.

"May I help you?" asks the woman at the desk. She looks like an owl herself. With big glasses. Or maybe she looks like Professor Trelawny. Either would be fine.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, you can," Oliver says, leaning carefully on the counter, avoiding dung. "I'm looking for Burrowing Owls."

"Well!" the woman replies, looking absolutely delighted. "Just your look, young sir and miss! We just got new Burrowing Owls! Only a few months old! They will make perfect pets and messengers. And if you get them at a young age, they're bound to have a better friendship with you. Here, let me go fetch a batch of them for you."

As she goes off into her shop, there are about a million squakings. Owls sure do squak loud...

"_Aaaugh!_" I scream, backing into Oliver. At the precise moment, a large black rat scatters across on the opposite side, disappearing into a hole.

"Relax, Katie," Oliver laughs, holding onto my shoulders. "They're just rats. Owls eat rats."

"Because that sure makes me feel better."

"You're welcome."

He's about to say something, but little squeaks are heard. The owner comes back into view, holding a basket of... things.

"Well, here they are!" she announces, placing the basket on the counter. Oliver immediately goes over, while I cautiously make my way.

Peering into the basket, I soon find out that not only are they 'things', but baby owls. You know how everyone thinks babies of any kind are all cute? Like puppies and kittens, and calves, and chicks. Or piglets, baby turtles, and even human babies. But not owls. Well, just not _these_ owls. And whenI thought the adults were creepy, these things are... wow.

"What do you think, Katie?" Oliver asks, tearing his eyes away from the basket.

Look at him, Katie. Just look at him. Look at that smile on his face. Look at all the joy he has. Don't ruin it by saying you think those owls are shit ugly.

"They're... they're... well, you know - they're _wonderful,_" I manage to say, mentally kicking myself in the head. Because he'll believe you now.

"Really?" he asks again, looking closely at me.

I don't trust myself to say anything. Don't say nothing. Just nod along. Nodding along always eases situations.

I give him a nod with a false smile.

He motions for me to come closer to the basket. I unwillingly drag my feet over, placing myself closely beside him. Just incase the owls pull the plug and attack me. I know they're babies and everything, but it's usually the younger ones who are the bad ones. Like kids.

"Which one do you like?" the woman asks, looking back and forth between us.

"Oh, ask him," I tell her, nodding at Oliver. "It's his owl."

"But I'd like your opinion," Oliver says, looking at me. "I'm not much of a chooser."

So now I'm suppossed to choose an owl from the litter. How the heck am I suppossed to choose one if I don't even like them?

"Are you two an item?" the woman asks, smiling at us.

"No," Oliver replies offhandedly. He turns to me. "I like that one," he points to the one near the left, who's a very soft, milky-brown with a black spot on its left wing.

"And what a magnificent choice!" the woman exclaims, picking up the bird and handing it to Oliver. "He's my favourite. Nicest of the bunch. No quarreling, no biting, just plain pleasurable!"

Now that's a creepy thought. A pleasurable owl.

"I like him," mumurs Oliver, snuggling the owl to his face. He then holds it out for me. "What do you think?"

Backing quickly, away, I manage to say, "Perfect. Just perfect!"

"Would you like to hold him?"

Do I really need to answer that? "No, it's alright. Really."

"Oh, come on. Just hold him, will you?"

"No, I'm fine."

"_Hold him!_"

"_I don't want to!_"

And doing the most horrible thing ever, he grabs my hand with his free one, and places the owl on my palm.

I want to scream. I really, really, _really_ want to scream. I knew this day would be bad. I just knew it! Why do I even agree to things when I know the outcome isn't going to be peaches and cream?

Holding the owl at arm's length, I inspect it. Well, there's nothing wrong with it much... and it does seem pretty small.

"How big is is going to get?" I ask the woman, who is now smiling at me.

"Just about the size of your average owl," she tells me, still smiling.

Bringing the owl closer to me, I check to see if everything's alright. Well, the left wing is quite unique... and so is the colour. I've never seen a milky-brown coloured owl. My own owl is dark brown, with a white face. This one's just the same solid colour everywhere - apart from the black spot on the wing, of course. And it _does_ seem nice. It's not pecking at me or anything...

"Alright, Katie," Oliver says, chuckling. "I think I'll take him back now, before you get too attatched to him."

I hand the owl back over to him. He seems to really like it. Now that's a weird thing to see - Oliver Wood, responsible parent. To an owl.

"I'll take him," he says, looking absolutely delighted.

The witch smiles at him, walking over to the casher. "Nine Galleons, four Sickles and eighteen Knuts, if you please."

Without any bargaining, Oliver hands over the money without a word, except cooing his new owl. Picking up the cage and owl treats - which, by the way, came with the owl, so it's a pretty good deal - I stroll out of the shop, with him behind me. Still muttering to the new owl.

When we enter the busier streets, he gives me the owl to hold, so he could put on his sunglasses. It still amazes me how _no one _notices him. I mean, really, he looks the _same!_

"So... what's next?" I ask, handing back his owl to him.

"My house," he says, nodding up Diagon Alley. "Not too far..."

"How far?"

"Roughly twenty-odd minutes on foot."

Right. So I'm suppossed to walk 'twenty-odd minutes' to his house. Twenty-odd minutes in the scorching sun, holding my bag, a cage, and owl treats. Just brilliant.

- - - - - - - - - - -

"Just make a right turn here."

I've been counting the minutes. We've been walking.. approximately thirteen now. It's not as bad as it seems... there's still a breeze. A small, crappy breeze. Who am I kidding? I'm tired, I'm hot, I'm thirsty, I have owl shit on me, feathers still flinging away in my hair, and the worst part - I smell!I don't know why Oliver's not complaining.

He hasn't said anything, aside from telling me directions to his house. I'm surprised though. I would've thought his place would be secluded, away from the public eye. But apparantly, since we're still in Diagon Alley, it's in Diagon Alley. Interesting... All he's been doing is playing with his owl - which still creeps me out. Kinda.

"Hey, Katie?"

Turning around, I stop abruptly, which causes Oliver to almost collide with me. But, of course, his super senses stop him just in time, and he does this weird pirouette, shielding his owl. Like I'm going to hurt his owl.

I'm _not!_

"Yes, Oliver?" I ask, looking expectedly at him.

He looks from his owl to me. "Any name suggestions?"

_Is this guy kidding me?_ First he asks me to pick out the thing, which is bad enough, and now I have to name it? Either way, he's not going to like names from me. I name my pets the most dumbest things. Like my own owl, who's name is Brown. Because he's brown. Or my fish. Its name is Float. Because, for some reason, all he seems to do is float on the surface... Hey, why does he only float on the surface? It's been like after a month or two since I've purchased it. _Hmmmm..._

"I was thinking of Glaughlit," he says absent-mindedly. "You know, after Glaughlit the Great. From the Goblin Rebellion of 1285."

I stare at him, my mouth agape. "I take you you really liked your Goblin Rebellions."

"Of course!" he replies, looking at me, as if _I_ were the weird one. "They were really interesting. The way Professor Binns talked about them made it sound like a whole entire Goblin Revolution. It was that awesome!"

... Only Oliver would like History of Magic. To be honest, Oliver was the only person I knew personally, who enjoyed History of Magic. With _Professor Binns_. Can that stupid ghost make the subject any more boring? But no, Oliver loved that class. It was probably his best class. What amazes me is how he was able to stay alive with the constant droning of the teacher. _Only Oliver_.

"You're serious about naming your owl, Glaughlit?" I ask, eyeing the owl.

"Well, I can't think of anything else. Can _you?_"

I can honestly say thatI cannot. But I'm not going to let him name his owl '_Glaughlit_'. Like, come on! I know I wouldn't want to be named Glaughlit. Would you? I highly doubt it.

"Name him Weatherby," I say, thinking of names. I think Fred and George told me about that name.

"Weatherby?" he questions, looking plain disgusted. "I'm not going to name my owl _Weatherby!_ It's horrible!"

"Yes, because Glaughlit is so much better."

"I'd rather be named Glaughlit than Weatherby."

"Well, whatever floats your boat, Oliver. I just know I wouldn't."

He stares at me intently, with his eyes narrowed. He looks at his owl, and then back to me. "Any other names?"

Wow, does this guy really value my opinion _that_ much?

"You can call him Mortimer," I suggest, thinking of the first name to pop into my head. Fast thinking doesn't always exude the best of things... How many times have I thought fast today, anyway?

"Mortimer," Oliver repeats quietly, peering at his owl. "Mortimer."

"Yes, Oliver. _Mortimer_."

"Can we call him Mort, too?"

I roll my eyes. Is he serious? "Yes, Oliver.We can call him Mort, too."

"Mortimer it is!" he announces, smiling at me. "Thanks, Katie."

"It's alright."

"I feel really bad for dragging you into my own personal affairs."

"It's alright."

"It's just that I wanted to spend some time with you. You know, get to know you again, like the others."

"That's great Oli - "

What does he mean _'like the others?'_

"When you say 'others', what do you mean - " I start to ask, but he cuts me off.

"Well, I've gotten some catch up time with the original Team Wood. It was only you that was missing."

Oh, ouch. So all these years, he's been in contact with everyone, except me. Yeah, that's a good way to boost my confidence. Peachy.

"You're pretty hard to track down, you know that?" he adds, seeing my face turn sour. "I've tried to get in touch with you, but you're very hard to reach."

Right. All he had to do was ask Fred, George, Lee, Angelina, and Alicia. Or even Harry!

"I've asked everyone about your whereabouts, Katie. But everyone kept telling me it was a lost cause. Because you're practically impossible to get together with. What with your Ministry job and all."

Ha! What a lie. I doubt he asked the guys about me. He probably just forgot about me...

But isn't that what I aim for? Not to be remembered? All my life, I've always tried to be the in background. Sure, I was popular back in school and everything - but I was always mellow. You know, savvy. I just don't like people troubling with me. That's all...

"I didn't forget about you, you know."

Holy shit - is this guy psychic? Why is it that he always seems to know what's on my mind? Gosh, just when I thought Eeylop's was eerie...

"I can't forget you," he says, attempting to smile at me. "Don't tell anyone, but you were my favourite on the team."

Psh! Yeah right. I narrow my eyes at him.

He starts to shift uncomfortably, but continues. "Well, you never pranked me or anything, unlike Frd and George. You didn't lose anything for us, unlike Harry - don't tell him I said that. I don't really mind it now, but it still scars."

I give him a stare that clearly indicates; 'dude, you are _so_ troubled.'

"Angelina never really listened to my instructions. Oh, and Alicia always did have a bit of a weak arm," he goes on, shrugging his shoulders. "But you always arrived at every practice, not complaining. Sure, you've fallen asleep countless of times when I'm trying to explain one of my new plays, but then again, so did everyone. At least you took the time to actually learn them. From what I've gathered, Fred and George always played every game improv, Harry just floated along, trying to find the snitch, and Angelina and Alicia, just like the twins, did it impromptu. So I've always respected you more. Just because you listened."

Huh. Who would've thought that Oliver Wood thinks so highly of me? All I did was play quidditch. At least he didn't bash me or anything - oh wiat, he did comment about my sleeping through his play explanations. But let's face it - it was fucking boring, listening to him drone on, and on, and on about the opposing team. He kind of sounded like Binns, now that I think of it.

"Are you ever going to talk?"

He's standing there, with this small pathetic pout on his face. His bottom lip, jutted out and quivering. Just standing there, stroking the head of an even more pathetic baby owl. Great.

"_Fine!_" I exclaim, heaving a sigh. "It's impossible not to talk to you when you look that pitiful!"

And with that, he drops his stupid pout, to be instantly replaced with his smirk. "I practiced that look, you know? I can get absolutely anything I want from the team!"

I stare at him, cocking up an eyebrow. "You use your pity-look to gain advantages?"

"Yes, well, I only use it when I want something to eat. That helper-girl-person seems to always be willing to fetch me a drink here or there. So I rarely use it."

"Then when _do_ you use it?"

"In situations, such as a few moment ago."

"I'm guessing this is the first time you've use it."

"Actually, no. I used it once before, when my mom threatened to throw away my toy broomstick. You're the second person to be hit with my charm."

Unbelievable. This man is unbelievable.

"Take it as a good thing!" he says, catching up with me. "You're the only one of two people who've seen it."

"And I take it that it's suppossed to be a good thing?" I ask, my voice toneless.

"But of course! You can now go ahead and tell your friends that Oliver Wood made you feel sorry for him."

"I didn't feel sorry for you!"

"It's alright, Katie. You don't have to say it."

"But I _didn't!_"

"Oh, make a left turn here."

He's ignoring me! That ignorant bastard! I didn't feel _sorry_ for him! I just felt _pity!_ Urgh, he's _so_ pissing me off right now! How can someone be so _arrogant?_ He's like a male bitch! I fucking swear! Oh my god! He's so -

"You can stop ranting sliently about me now, Katie. It wouldn't make much off a difference, really."

That buttmunch.

I scowl at him, which only rewards me with a smirk. I'm getting sick of that smirk.

Alright, so now I''ve come to realisation that I cannot spend even an afternoon with Oliver. He's bound to bug me one way or another.  
I'm about to continue walking, until I feel him tugging my elbow.

"_What?_" I demand, looking up at him.

"Here," he saysm raising an eyebrow. He hands me a piece of paper.

_The House of Oliver Wood may be found at 87 Roughfield Cresent, Diagon Alley, London England._

What is this suppossed to be? I look blankly at him.

"Just think about it," he tells me, smiling.

Thinks about it? What am I suppossed to think about? There is nothing here! What - am I suppossed to think about his house? Where is his house anyway? Let's see... The House of Oliver Wood may be found at 87 Roughfield Cresent, Diagon Alley, London England? Okay, I don't get it -

Oh. _So there you go_. His house is just - _bam_, in front of me.

And Merlin, is that one... big house.

"It's just a house, Katie," he mutters, pushing me gently on the back. "Not a monument."

He smiles at me, leading me up to the front steps of his porch. Taking out his wand, he sticks it into the hole of the door.

"Welcome to my house. It's not much."

_Not much?_ Just looking at the outside makes me feel like crap. I sunddenly feel poor. Poor and pathetic...

Alright. So here, we go... entering his house.

_Entering._


	5. Unexpected Questions

**a/n:** okay, so i'm extremely sorry for my spelling mistakes. my computer's just gotten re-imaged, and... i do not have microsoft office on it. aharrr... meaning i must result in using notepad. or whatever.

so here's the next installment to the story. _emotions start to stir_ in this one. it might not be what you expected, but hey - i worked on it! i promise, there will be better chapters. of course, i myself quite like this chapter.

and seriously people - _don't forget to review!_ _i don't want to lose reviewers_. so for all you who've put me on their _alert list_, how about you **review?** alright thanks.

* * *

Holy horse. 

I am seriously going to go home, feeling the utmost depressed. Extremely depressed. Like I have nothing.

Well, compared with Oliver, I guess you _could_ say I have nothing. All I have is one small little flat. And what does this guy have? A bloody mansion. A _mansion!_ This is insane - no kid I know has a mansion! But then again, no kid I know - Oliver aside - is rich. And Oliver is rich, seeing as he's now playing for the Wasps and all. Man, what I would do to be young and loaded.

"And how old are you again?" I ask Oliver, as I venture further into his house. "I thought only old men lived in places such as this."

He chuckles at my added bit of comment. "I'm pretty young, actually. But if you consider me as an old man..."

"Depends. How old are you exactly?"

"I've been your quidditch captain for three years. And in those three years, I've always been three years older than you. Please tell me you can do some simple mathematics."

I'm surprised he knows what the term _'mathematics'_ means. I know George didn't. Or was that Lee?

"You're twenty-five," I say, adding up the numbers in my head.

"And right you are! See, it wasn't that hard."

"You're still old in my book."

"Just you wait. In three years, you shall be my age yourself."

"Not exactly. Because in three years, while I will be hovering the mid-twenties, you will already be twenty-eight."

He looks at me with this weird face. I don't know how to describe it. But it's intense. I don't like intense.

"Three years isn't a big difference, is it?" he asks, still staring at me.

"No. Why?" I question, looking up at him curiously.

When he finally notices that I'm staring back at him, he shakes his head as if emptying it from previous thoughts. "Nothing. Nevermind."

Well, that's weird. Why would Oliver care about age differences? As far as I'm concerned, age really is just a number... What did he mean by three years being an age difference, anyway? Was he hinting at something? Oh my god - does he like me -

No. Don't be ridiculous, Katie. Oliver Wood wouldn't like you anyhow.

So that's settled. Aside from that, I've seen bigger age differences. My parents, for instance. My dad's five years older than my mum. And good ol' Professor Lupin with his young wife. And my cousin, Harold, who's married to some woman twelve years older than him. Of course, I do think that pairing is gross, but hey - whatever makes Harold happy.

Besides, really, why should Oliver care about age differences? Wasn't he the one who dated the Weird Sister nine years his senior?

Alright. That's enough of that. Don't think about Oliver. Just don't think about him.

And it sure helps that you can't think of him when you're standing a few feet behind him, in his big, ginormous, fancy house.

Stupid Oliver. He made me _think!_

"Oh, sorry about that, Katie!" he exclaims, turning back to me. "I forgot you were holding Mortimer's things!"

"It's alright, Oliver," I reply, looking around for a place to put the cage and treats. "Is there a certain spot where - "

"SLINKY!"

Did I just hear him call out _'slinky'?_

"SLINKY! SLINKY, WHERE ARE YOU?'

"Here, sir!"

My eyes widen in terror as something small, and covered in rags, appears out of nowhere, beside me. _"Augh!"_

I back into the wall behind me, shielding myself with Mortimer's cage. Opening the package of owls treats, I'm about to pelt them at the ragged monster until an arm stops me.

"Relax, Katie."

How many times have I heard him say that to me today?

"Sorry, miss!"

Oh my god - the pile of rags is talking. It is talking. To _me!_

"That's Slinky," Oliver says, prying the cage and treats away from my hands. "She's my house-elf."

And lo' and behold - an arm stretches out of the pile of rags. The arm then pulls a piece of rag from the top of the pile, to reveal a head. An extremely strange head. And pulling itself out of the pile, a house-elf emerges.

I have never seen an house-elf before in my entire life. I know that house-elves worked in Hogwarts, but I never really saw one. And all I can say is that... they're different. I always imagined elves as small, skinny, lithe creatures. Not like the other elves from the storybooks that make them beautiful and enchanting. I always imaged them to be dressed in stripes, with stockings and caps. Like Santa's elves. But boy was I wrong.

A house-elf is small and skinny, yes. But not wearing caps and stockings. This one in front of me had a toga draped over herself. She had big bat-like ears, and really huge eyes. The size of my fists probably. And oddly enough, there was a small pink bow at the top of her head, where a few stray strands of hair stood.

"H-house-elf?" I repeat, now stepping closer to Oliver.

He laughs at me. "Yes, a house-elf. Don't worry. Slinky isn't going to hurt you. She's very nice."

The house-elf starts nodding at Oliver's comment. "Nice, miss. Nice!"

... Right.

"Did sir want his Slinky?" the house-elf pipes up, smiling at Oliver.

Did sir want his _slinky?_ I know that's her name... but... I don't know. That sounded kinky.

Stop it.

"Yes, I did, actually," Oliver says, handing the cage and treats over to Slinky. I see that Oliver has already put Mortimer into the cage. "Could you cover the bottom of the cage in newspaper, and find a place to put Mortimer? That would be lovely, Slinky."

Slinky starts nodding fervently. "Yes, master! Anything, master! Slinky will do what sir asks Slinky to do!"

And with that, Slinky the house-elf bolts away, finding a spot for Mortimer.

"Are you going to get off my wall soon?"

I look over at Oliver, who's smiling at me. Oh. So I'm still on this wall? Well, maybe I should just get off. Slowly.

Looking around - just incase something else decided to rush past me - I get off the wall, following Oliver into his house.

All I can say is this; it is the hugest house I've ever stepped foot in. Everywhere I look, something valuable stands. Something beautiful sits. I'm a very clumsy person. My biggest fear is knocking over something and breaking it.

He leads us into the very first door. I wonder what's in there. It's probably something big and pricey. Something that only a professional quidditch player can afford.

"This is my lving room."

And everything I pondered goes out the window.

Indeed, it is, a living room. It certainly is made for living. There's this long, really soft-looking couch place against the wall, with a big book-case facing it. At the other end, is a small cooler, that's probably filled with drinks and whatnot. And a radio. And boy is it messy. I thought this guy had a house-elf. Aren't house-elves suppossed to clean up messes?

Seeing the look on my face, Oliver replies, "I don't let Slinky clean this place up."

I raise an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"It's a living room. Meant to live in. And I prefer comfortable living."

"So is there a point in having a house-elf?"

"I like company. Besides, she cleans other places around the house. And cooks."

He leads us to the next room, which was the dining room. This must be one of the places that Slinky cleans. And that is the most expensive looking chandalier I've ever seen. It's filled with diaminds upon diamonds, and gold! Look at that gold! How can something so heavy be held up by itself? It's as if he used magic -

Oh yeah. He can do magic.

And beside the dining room is the kitchen. And what a marvelous kitchen!

"Slinky likes big kitchens. I got this just for her," he tells me, smiling at the glorious kitchen.

It's filled with four ovens, five stoves, and three fridges. Pots and pans hang everywhere, with utensils, and cooking spices on the countertops. At least we know he thinks about his house-elf. And that he's notselfish. And that he'd get things for very important people in his life. I never thought Oliver had that much compassion. I just knew he was quidditch crazy.

He leads us to another room, further down the hall. "And this is my parents' room."

_What? _He never told me he lived with his parents! Oh god, oh god, oh god. Don't panic. _Don't panic! _Oh great - what will his parents say when they see me? This isn't cool. What if they think I'm his girlfriend or something? They'll start analyzing me, and critizing me, and comment subtely about me! They'll think I'm not good enough for their son! Wait - I'm not even _with_ their son! Why should I care -

"Incase you're wondering; no, they don't live here."

My head whips towards Oliver, probably panic-stricken. He smiles at my expression.

"So why do they have a room here?" I ask, feeling a sudden wave of relief wash over me.

"For when they visit. And besides, I'm their only son. They make jokes about living with me when they're old and crumpled. And if I make a room for them, not only will they stop the jokes, they'll probably not want to live with me."

Now that's weird. "Why?"

"Because they like doing thing unexpectedly. If they know there's a room for them, they won't like it. They're spontaneous people, my parents."

"So where are they now?"

"Oh, in Scotland."

In Scotland? I didn't know Oliver was Scottish! I mean, he doesn't have the accent or anything...

"You're Scottish?" I ask, looking at him curiously.

"No, why? Do I speak funny?" he asks me in turn, seeming genuinely puzzled.

"Well, since your parents are in Scotland and everything - "

"No, they just moved there five years ago. I'm English. And part Spanish-Chinese."

Now, who would've thought that Oliver Wood had so much in him?

"Part Spanish-Chinese?" I repeat, my brows furrowing.

He nods. "Back a few generations... I think of my mum's side. Her great-great Grandfather was Spanish-Chinese, who married an English woman. And then after that, it's all been English in the blood."

So, that would explain why he looked different from the average English man. His hair was a bit darker, his eyes were round yet a bit asian looking. And he was a bit darker. I guess you can say he's inherited the best of three worlds. Lucky bastard.

"Anyway, I don't want to bore you with my parents' room. I'll just show you mine."

And show he did.

If I thought I was messy, I'm nothing compaired to him. Clothes everywhere, on the tables, on the bed, on the floor. The roof of the room, covered with pictures of the Wimbourne Wasps. Another wall, plastered with posters of his old team, Puddlemere. A book-case filled with quidditch books, like _'Quidditch Through the Ages', 'Withstanding Weather',_ and _'The Acute Keeper'._ And at the wall, facing his bed, are small photographs of people. I can't see who.

Venturing into the room, I head towards the wall with the small pictures. Him as a baby - very cute, with snitch covered pajamas. And pictures of him, progressing in age. Him, with his friend, Kiran Abbert, who was also in his year at school. And... pictures of the Hogwarts quidditch team.

I look through the pictures, with a bit of surprise and awe. His first quidditch team, with people I didn't know. And finally, the one with 'Team Wood'. There's Fred and George, whipping their bats at each other. And here's Oliver, chasing them, with their bats in his hands. Harry, after his very first match against Slytherin. Angelina, Alicia, and myself, passing the quaffle between us...

"I didn't know you had all these," I murmur, looking at more of the pictures on his wall.

He walks over beside me, shrugging. "I'm very proud of my team."

There's one with him and Alicia. Well, he's yelling at Alicia, while Alicia seems to not be listening. And there's me, crashing into Harry. And Angelina, flirting with Fred, and George hovering in the background, making faces. Another one with all of us, in Oliver's final year, holding the cup.

And the last one. With his arm around me, kissing me on the cheeck. And me, flushing bright pink.

He sees me staring at the picture. "I don't know where the other ones went. You know, with me kissing everyone else on the team. I know Angelina stole all the ones with me kissing Harry, Fred and George. I don't know about the rest."

Look at me in that picture! I look absolutely stupid! Why am I blushing?

Stepping out of his room, still with thoughts of the picture, I realize we're at the end of the house. That's odd. It looked bigger on the outside...

"That's my house," he says, bringing his hands together. "I prefer houses with only one level."

"It looked much bigger from the outside," I comment, following him into the kitchen.

"Yeah... I enchanted it to look like that. A lot of reporters come to take pictures of me outside my house. I just made it so the outside would look good. You know, so _I_ could look good."

I laugh softly at his comment. "Whatever it takes to make you have good face, huh?"

"Why, of course! I can't show them a small, one-story bungalow! Besides, big houses look much better in the front covers of magazines and newspapers."

"So what's next?" I ask, taking a seat on the counter, beside the stove.

"I told you I'd make you drinks."

"I thought Slinky was going to make them."

"Slinky? No, I can't let her near alcohal. Besides, I make very good drinks."

"You told me that."

"So now I'll show you!"

He took out two large glasses, and his wand, muttering weird charms under his breath. One glass with teal-coloured liquid, and another one with fuscia. And now he's adding twists of fruit to it. And many other things... man, is it boring describing his every move. I think I'll just... hop off this marble counter and look outside his big window.

I walk over to the big window, that turns out not to be a wiondow, but some sort of sliding-door leading to a backyard. Looking outside, I see that there's a big field. A big field with three hoops at either end. Typical.

"You have a quidditch pitch in your backyard," I comment, still looking at his backyard.

"I'm a quidditch player. Of course I have a quidditch pitch," he answers, his back still towards me, making his drinks.

"Who do you play with?"

"Sometimes the team comes over. Or the Puddlemere guys. Then Fred, George, and sometimes Lee. Angelina, if she's feeling like a game, Harry... Kiran..." his voice trails off, as his concentration is towards his drinks.

Okay, so technically, most of 'Team Wood' comes over here to play. Minus myself and Alicia. Boy, do I feel loved. Even Angelina comes here to play! After seven years, they never told me they kept in touch with Oliver! What is this? Why didn't they tell me? I don't hate Oliver. And I'm pretty sure he doesn't hate me... so why not tell me they're still contacting each other?

Without knowing it, I unlatch the lock of the door, and step out onto his pitch. At the corner of the field, a small shed stands. Probably filled with quidditch equipment, In front of me, there's a small patio with a round table, and a few chairs. Another pair of lounge chairs, and a hammock to the side.

"Katie, are you feeling okay?"

I turn around slowly, just remembering where I was. There stands Oliver, carrying drinks in his two hands.

"Yeah..." I whisper, turning my head back to the pitch.

So literally, everyone's been to his house. Even if Alicia didn't, she's still had contact with him. Everyone has. And only just a month ago, after seven years, I have met up with him. And most-likely out of accident. I hate being left out.

But why should I care? I mean, I'm not his anything. And besides, I haven't set my butt on a broom since graduation.

Ridding my head of the thoughts, I settle myself in one of the chairs around the table.

"Which one would you like?" he asks me, holding two glasses in my face.

I point to the fuscia one. Handing it over to me, he takes a seat beside me.

He really does make good drinks. Whatever it is he just gave me, it's fucking great! Sweet, tangy, with a bit a passion-fruit flavour. This boy can do _anything!_ Anything, I tell you!

"So, do you like my quidditch pitch?" he asks, setting his glass down, folding his arms together.

"It's the first time I've seen one outside of Hogwarts," I comment, still staring at it. "Well, one that I've seen up close."

"I sure miss Hogwarts."

"Yeah..."

"Remember how we felt when we won the cup?"

"I remember how _I_ felt. _You,_ Oliver, were a different story."

"It was my last year! Give me a break. Besides, it was the first time we won it since Charlie Weasley."

"I miss quidditch."

"Can't say I do, since I play it for a living."

"Well, it's nice to be able to be on a broom..."

"Well, you can ride too, Katie."

"I haven't ridden in seven years."

_"WHAT?"_

At his sudden explosion, I jump out of my chair, looking around frantically. "What?"

He stares at me, as if I weren't real. "You're serious?"

"About what?" I ask, raising an eyebrow, sitting back in my seat.

"About not riding a broom in seven years?"

'"It's not something I'd lie about."

He's staring at me. All he's doing is staring at me. He has a very scary stare. Stop staring me.

He gets up silently from his chair. And great. Now he's _standing_ and staring at me. That just makes him all the more creepy! He's -

"Oliver! What are you _doing?_" I hear myself shriek.

Before I knew it, he had pulled me by the wrist.

"Oliver, let go! What's wrong with you?"

He's not answering. And he's taking me to the shed. Oh my god! He's going to lock me up in his shed! And then he'll kill me! I knew it! I _knew_ it was a trap! I never should have agreed to come to his house! He was just being nice to me, so he could lead me up to this shed and rid me for good! No, I don't deserve this! I mean, sure, I know I've done some really horrible things, like stealing ladles from people during Potions so they can't scoop up their potion and therefore, causing them to lose marks! But I didn't mean it! Oh _no,_ we're here! He's going to throw me into the shed! He's opening up the door! Okay, on the count of three, run for it! One - two - _three_ -

"Pick one."

I freeze in my attempt to run. Because, in front of me, are brooms. Brooms of every kind. Brooms for riding of course, but brooms of every kind. Nimbuses, Comets, Starfires! Galaxicas, Cleansweaps, Jetstreaks - and oh my, are those _Firebolts?_ This guy has a whole entire wall, lined up of only Firebolts! How fucking rich _is_ he?

I look up at him, with my mouth ajar.

He smiles at me, gesturing to his broomcloset. "Pick one."

What does he mean, 'pick one'? Am I suppossed to take it home or something? What is he going to do to me? Okay, so maybe him locking me up in a shed was a dud, but what if he's planing some sort of trick and getting rid of me in the air?

I watch him as he goes into the shed, picking out two brooms. Two Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones.

He sees me staring at him. "Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones. Not too fast, but fast enough. Here!"

He tosses one of the brooms at me. Flinching, I move to the side, to avoid it hitting me.

He raises and eyebrow at me. "Just incase you were wondering; you were suppossed to catch it."

Right. I knew that.

Picking up the broom, I follow him as he leads us to the centre of the pitch.

"And for the first time in seven years," he says, looking at me with a hint of a smile, "you, Katie Bell, are going to fly."

I knew it! He's going to pull something on me during the air! I can't fly! I haven't flown in seven years! I probably forgot how to fly - to mount, even! And I'm not telling him, but I've developed a fear of heights within those sad seven years. Pathetic, aren't I? One of the Gryffindor Chasers, now afraid to even get on a broom.

"_No!_" I answer, a bit too high in voice. "No, really! I'm fine! Just fine! I like the ground!"

"Come on, Katie - "

"Fine! Fine! F-i-n-e fine! No need to go up in the air, nope! I'll just stand here, and watch you do your ever-amazing flips in the air."

"Mount the broom, Katie."

"Honest, Oliver! I'm fine, right here."

"Please?"

Anf there's his sad face again. He doesn't look as sad as he did when Mortimer was with him, but it's still going on my instincts.

"Don't look at me like that," I retort, turning away from him.

He walks over to me, slowly, making his expression sadder with each step. When he finally reaches me, his face is the most pathetic I have ever seen.

"_Pleeeeaaaaaase?_" he whimpers, sticking out his bottom lip even more.

"I can't!" I cry, now starting to look as pathetic as him.

Immediately, his face changes into a curious one. "Why not?"

I'm not telling him. I'm not saying anything. He doesn't need to know I'm afraid of heights.

"Because I'm scared of heights!"

Did I just say that outloud? Damn.

And once more, he stares at me. With his mouth ajar. "Katie Bell, former Chaser, afraid of heights?"

And before I know it, he's on the floor, clutching his sides, pointing and laughing at me.

That sure makes me feel confidant. Great for the self-esteem, having someone point and laugh at you. I suggest it.

He finally straightens himself, with a big, goofy smile on his face. "Come on, Katie. Mount the broom."

"No."

"Just mount it!"

"No!"

"Its' not that hard, here - watch me!" He mounts his broom, and then soars up into the sky, showing off with all these complicated looking loops, until finally, diving back down, and coming into an almost-screeching halt, hovering in front of me.

"You used to be able to do that," he says, now upside-down on his broom.

I want to kick his face. But I can't. Knowing him, he's probably got a bunch of the best lawyers on his side.

"I know," I say, glaring at him.

"Would you like to try?"

"No, thank you."

"Just mount the broom, Katie. Really."

"No, Oliver. I won't moun the broom. Really."

"Stop being so stubborn."

"You're one to talk."

"What's that suppossed to mean?"

"You're stubborn. That's what."

"That's beside the point. Mount the broom."

"No!"

"Will you just mount the mother fucking broom?"

"_No_."

"Damnit, Katie! Just sit your ass on the damn stick!"

"As weird as that sounds, Oliver, no, I will not!"

"MOUNT!"

"NO!"

I'm glaring at him. And he's glaring at me. Wow, I didn't know his eyes were shiny. I can see my reflection in it. Gosh, my hair is just not being good today, is it? Or maybe it has to do with all the yelling and falling in Eeylops' earlier today... Well, at least the rest of me looks -

"OLIVER!"

Without a word, he yanks me by my wrist, once again, and pulls me beside him. Picking me up - with my own broom still in my hands - he plops me down in front of him, on the broom. And great. Now we're flying.

"OLIVER, YOU SON OF A BITCH! GET ME OFF THIS THING RIGHT NOW! _RIGHT NOW!_ COME ON, I MEAN IT! I HATE YOU!"

"You won't hate me later," he calls from behind me, chuckling.

"I WANT OFF!_ I WANT OFF!_"

"Come on, Katie - "

"I'M AFRAID OF HEIGHTS!"

"Will you just shut up and actually enjoy this?"

Well, that sure shuts me up. I forgot how this feels... This is great! A sudden rush of adrenaline comes to me, as past feelings errupt. This is why I became a chaser. This is why I played quidditch. So why did I ever stop?

Right. Because of my job, and because of the sudden fear of heights that came out of nowhere.

"So, how do you like flying?"

Turning to my left, Oliver floats up beside me. How did he get there? Wasn't he _just _behind me? And did that broom just get magically appear? I know we can do magic, but it was just _seconds _ago! Wait - where's the broom I was holding?

"I took your broom," he says, answering my unsaid questions. "And slipped off the one youare riding. Just thought you'd enjoy it without me behind you."

Note to self; never give up flying again.

Smiling at him, I zoom up higher into the air, circling the whole pitch.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Well, Oliver, I can honestly say that today didn't turn out as I expected it to."

It was almost seven in the evening, and we were standing in his living room.

"Is that a good thing?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

I smile at him. "Most of it."

"_Most_ of it?"

"I didn't enjoy the Eporium much, but other than that, it was pretty good."

"So you're saying you don't like Mortimer?"

... How should I answer that one? Smiling and nodding along won't help with _this_ glitch... Plus, Mortimer _is_ kinda cute. _Kinda._

"Of course I like Mortimer!" I reply, laughing nervously, tugging at me sleeve. "Just not the other owls. And the lady and her shop."

He shakes his head at me, smiling. "Well, come over again, Katie. Don't make yourself a stranger."

"I won't."

I take out my wand, ready to Apparate back into my own apartment.

"Hey, um, Katie?"

I look up at Oliver, who's standing there, looking extremely hesitant. He's not looking at me, but at the floor.

"Yeah?"

Our eyes finally meet when he looks at me. He really does have a nice pair of eyes. They're dark brown, but like pools, with so many depths... You can just get lost in them and not want to resurface...

Not to mention the fact that he's quite handsome himself. Tall, sturdy, filled with muscles - but not too much like those horrid weight-lifting guys. His short hair - thankfully not long, fits him perfectly. Men with long hair bother me. And for a quidditch player, he sure smells nice. Like fresh laundry and some really good cologne.

"Master Oliver, sir!"

I jump back, as a small squeak at my feet is heard. I look down, to see Slinky, the house-elf. She's carrying some sort of bag.

"Yes, Slinky?" Oliver asks, looking a bit annoyed.

I think Slinky notices it too, for she shrinks back a bit. "Sorry, Master, Slinky can go away!"

"No, no. What is it, Slinky?"

Looking at her master, Slinky says, "Slinky has a gift for young miss!"

Slinky holds up the bag ontop of her head, gesturing for me to take it. Now isn't that nice? I didn't know the house-elf thought of me...

"Thank you, Slinky," I say, genuinely pleased. "I'll bring you something next time I see you."

Looking a bit horrified, Slinky shakes her head fervently. "No, _no_ miss! No gift! Slinky is fine!"

She hurries away, shooting back scared looks at me.

"Did I scare her?"I ask uncertainly, staring down the path that Slinky had run in.

"Nah. House-elves just don't like being given materials things. Just compliments," he replies, giving a small smile.

There's a bit of silence as we both resume looking at each other. I wonder what he's thinking...

"Um... I should get going now," I suddenly say, breaking the silence, looking at my watch. "Jameson's presentation is tomorrow, and if I miss it, I'll be in deep shit."

"Oh, alright," he tells me, a bit surprised by the interruption himself.

He stares at me again.

"What?" I ask, staring at him.

"Nothing."

"Oh... well, uh... bye then."

"Come again."

"I already promised I will."

"Seriously."

"I'm serious, Oliver. I too, don't break promises."

"Fine, fine! I'll take your word for it. You should get going now..."

"Yep..."

Raising my wand, I think of my apartment, and apparate to it.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Well, today was an interesting day. I should really take that shower. I think I've still got some bird doo on me.

"Scoop, Brown, Float! I'm back!" I call over to my pets, making my way into the cramped living room.

Two hoots for a reply. Float is still floating there. I should really get him checked out. Him, her... I don't know.

Plopping down on my couch, I open the bag that Slinky gave me. A bag of scones, another bag of cookies, and a bag of crisps. All made by her. She really is a sweet little elf, isn't she? Hey - there's something else.

I stuff my hand inside the bag, grabbing onto something thin. Pulling out my hand, a picture is in my palm.

The picture of him kissing me on the cheeck. With me blushing like mad.

Smiling to myself, I conjure up a picture frame, inserting the picture inside. I think it'll look good on my bedside table, don't you?

I walk into my room, placing the picture on the said table. Look at how young we looked. It's hard to believe that seven years can change a person that much. Seven years ago, Oliver was my quidditch captain. Seven years ago, we were just teammates on the same team. Seven years ago, we were just kids.

And seven years later, he's become the biggest quidditch player in England. And I'm just some junior secretary.

Stop thinking about Oliver. You don't want to think about Oliver.

But he really does have the cutest face. I wonder what he was going to say before Slinky came into the room.

* * *

as you might have noticed, _no_, i didn't make oliver scottish. where in the book did jk rowling say he was scottish? it was probably just the whole sean biggerstaff thing, what with him being scottish. no, she didn't mention him of his roots, and he didn't speak in an accent, like seamus finnigan, did he? so i made him english-spanish-chinese. you know, just to have some fun with him.

hope you liked this one. as said previously, emotions start to rise! isn't that what you were all waiting for? some action? well, this is as much as it's going to get in this chapter. don't worry - there will be other moments later on. and i promise, they will get together, seeing as it's the whole point of the story anyhow.


	6. Situation Never What You Want it to Be

**a/n:** for some odd enough reason, the 'sean biggerstaff' thing seems to have been offensive. why? how the hell should i know? i don't hate sean biggerstaff. in fact, i think he kinda cute. _kinda._ aharrr... i just didn't want him being scottish. not that i don't mind the whole scottish accent or anything. i never said the whole sean biggerstaff thing was bad. please point out to me where i said it was bad, because i really cannot see it. so, sorry if i have offended you in whatever way possible, but i really don't know how i could have done. oh well. we're all entitled to our opinions, are we not? anyway, maybeoliver WAS scottish. i don't know. i don't pay enough attention to little facts like these. heh. 

and about the whole 'newts' and 'owls' thing, let's get real people. i don't know what on earth a/as' are, or... cg...things are. i live in canada. sorry, _we just dont have those here._ and really - it's just a story. let's cut me some slack. please? i'm just trying to imply that she was some sort of hero to zero person. but thats ok. thanks for imforming me of those wonderful test scores and their names. it's really quite interesting to know that somewhere out there, things like this really exist.

so anyway, on with the sorry, my dears!

* * *

Weddings sure know how to piss me off. Especially nice ones. Like this one. 

An outdoor wedding on a great big field filled with wildflowers, blue skies with strands of white clouds. Bright sun and laughter, billowing across the lovely breeze.

Why did Fred and Angelina pick July to be their wedding time? I could use this to be on a beach. Or even better; being at home. But nope. Here I am, in a small little tent for the Bride and Bridesmaids only. Oh, and everyone else besides the groom. Wonderful. Just wonderful.

"I can't believe I'm getting married today!"

And alas, neither can I.

"After all these years, we are _finally _going to be married!"

Please. Stop it.

"How long have we waited? And when most people think getting married at twenty-three is too young! It's be postponed too long!"

She just won't shut up.

"I am so happy!"

Sadly, for once - today to be exact, the world revolves around her.

It's not that I'm not happy for them. Angelina and Fred really _do _deserve to get married. They've been together since what - sixth year? Since the Yule Ball. I remember. The first and probably only one Hogwarts will ever have again. They're meant for each other. Both boisterous, both loud. Both humourous and outrageous. For them, it's not opposites attract. It's really like... similiar attracts? I don't know. Whatever.

I never really believed in opposites attract. Why? Because one day, something is going to set them off and break them up. Like Alicia and George. They went out for a bit in seventh year. For around two months. And then the fight of differences came. Oh well. They're still friends. I think.

So here I am, in this small crappy little tent. No, I'm not the Maid of Honour. That position is filled by Alicia. I understand that. I was a year younger than them. Even if we were friends, I'm just not exactly up there like Alicia is. They're literally inseperable. Well, since Angelina's getting married, I guess they _are_ seperable. But you get what I mean, don't you? It's okay, really. I'm not at all pissed off about not being the Maid of Honour. Or a Bridesmaid. Yes, that's right. Angelina decided only on a Maid of Honour, and no more. I'm quite glad - she said she would've asked me to be one. But since I don't do too well in the public eye, I'm really relieved.

"_No!_"

I whip my head around at the ear-piercing shriek. Apparantly, Angelina had tripped on a wildflower, causing the heel of her, well, heels, to rip through her dress.

"Oh god!" she wails, bending down to examine the dress. "What's going to happen? Why is it that disasters always happen on wedding days?"

Be glad you _get _a wedding day.

"Don't be silly, Angelina," says Mrs. Johnson, stepping over to her daughter hautily. "We're witches. Just use magic to fix it."

Angelina stares at her mother in disbelief. "Oh right. I can't believe I forgot we have wands."

No kidding.

I can't take this. I have been trapped in this piece of cloth thrown over four sticks for far too long. An hour to be exact. An hour filled with _'I can't believe I'm getting married'_, _'This has got to be the best day of my life!'_, and _'Am I making a mistake?'_

And each time, I would be there, answering with _'I'm so happy for you, Angelina!'_, _'This _will_ be the best day of your, Angelina!'_, and _'No, you aren't making a mistake, Angelina.'_

Getting up from the seat, I take one more look at the Bride. She's gorgeous. For reasons only she knows, she decided not to wear a white dress, but a gold one. Although Mrs. Weasley wasn't too happy with that decision, she quickly changed her mind when she saw how beautiful her daughter-in-law-to-be looked. Her hair's up in this really tight bun. And her heels just make her more taller. I wonder if Fred would like that. They're both equal in height, but if Angelina's wearing heels, she might just be taller than him. Maybe he's wearing flats. I don't know.

"Katie! Where are you going?"

I turn around, to see Alicia and Angelina staring at me. Damn. I thought I could get away quietly.

"Oh, uh... I was just going to get a drink," I say, trying to think up an excuse to leave.

"But there _are_ drinks!" Alicia says, giving me a look. She points to her left. "Right there."

Oh yes. I forgot there was a drinks table in the tent. Great.

"Oh, yeah..." I mumble, slowly making my way back into the tent. I was _so _close.

"Don't you dare step outside!" Angelina warns me, as I'm still walking into the tent. "I don't want you ruining your lovely dress like me."

I must admit, it _is _a rather lovely dress... My favourite colour is green, so I'm wearing a nice, pastel-green dress. With thin straps. See? Not too formal, but formal enough. I have much more better looking dresses, but Angelina had told me that I shouldn't dare try to top her dresses, since it's her wedding day. And doing her a favour, I wore this dress. I don't mind it. It's one of my favourites anyway.

"I hope you know," I turn around, looking at her, smiling crookedly, "that I too, have a wand - "

"Angeline!"

I blur of blue whips past me. Silvery-coloured strands brush my face. Oh great. My makeup might be ruined. Oh well... I don't wear makeup that much anyway. It won't make a difference, I guess...

Picking myself up from the surprise, I see Fleur, now standing beside Angelina, admiring her dress.

"Oh, Angeline! You look like a preencess!" Fleur exclaims, smiling blissfully at Angelina.

I don't know why, but Fluer can never say Angelina's name. It's never '_Angelina'_. It's '_Angeline'_. Maybe it's the french accent, but really. It's not so hard to pronounce that last _'a'_, is it? Here, watch me say it. An-gel-ee-_NAH_. Not that hard.

Besides, I don't know why Fleur's even complimenting Angelina. She, bar far, looks the best. But doesn't Fleur always look the best? She's so pretty. And it's all natural! She's wearing this really nice strapless blue dress that shows off everything she owns. And she looks flawless. It's really not fair.

"Oh, Fleur! What are you talking about?" Angelina cries, smiling brightly at Fleur. "Look at you! Marvelous!"

"Why, zank you, Angeline! You are so nice!"

Taking this opportunity, while everyone's eyes are on Fleur, I slip out of the tent. _Finally._

Whoa. So much has happened since my time inside the tent! There are rows and rows of chairs. Of course, seperated into two sides - the Bride's side and the Groom's side. At first, I wasn't sure which side to sit on, Angelina's or Fred's. But after much debating - also known as 'rock, paper, scissors'; they finally decided that I'd be sitting on Fred's side. Angelina was a bit put out, yes. But her side is crowded anyway. Not only did she invite her friends, she invited four house-elves, five of her Grandmother's cats, and a Hippogriff. I don't know why. I know she's into animals, but I really don't why know she'd invited five cats. Or a Hippogriff. The house-elves I understand, just not the other two.

I hear a shriek, as something seems to be running in my direction.

"Hide me!"

The 'something' turns out to be one of Bill's sons, Jean. Before I know it, he's hiding behind me, with bits of my dress clutched in his little fists. I always liked Jean. He's a pretty cool kid. Like his dad.

"It's not fair, Jean! You cheated!"

Someone else runs over to stand in front of me, who turns out to be Jean's brother, Antonin. Twins. Just what the Weasleys needed. Another pair of twins. Of course, this pair being not as hyper as Fred and George, but still mischievious in ther own way.

"I didn't!" Jean retorted, stepping away from my dress. "You just count too slow!"

"No I don't!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"I'M TELLING!" they both bellow together. Now they're screaming gibberish at each other. Why am I in the middle of it?

"_Auntie Katie!_" they both cry, looking at me and pointing at each other. I'd laugh, but let's be serious.

Even if there _is _nothing serious about this situation...

"Auntie Katie!"

Why me? Is this some sort of punishment? Haven't I already done all my pension? Gosh.

"Auntie Katie!"

They both grab onto each of my hands, pulling me into the opposite direction I was headed towards.

"I'm telling papa!" Antonin yelled, shooting death glares at his brother. In response, Jean sticks out his tongue.

I remember when I was a kid. Of course, my older brother had punched me at the side of my head. But we're okay now. Really. Luckily, he's in North America, studying to become a rocket-scientist. Aren't my parents proud of him. A rocket scientist. While here I am, with the crappiest job. At least I can do magic. Heh.

Oh no. They're leading me to another tent. I don't wanna go into another tent. My objective was to get as far away from a tent as possible! No tents, I refuse to go into a tent!

"Come _on_, Auntie Katie!" Jean exclaims, tugging onto my hand.

Oh shit that hurts! Stupid litte -

"Papa!" the both shriek, as we've entered into the other tent.

Apparantly, this is the groom's tent. Great. I'm the only girl in the groom's tent. Where is Mrs. Weasley when you need her? Or the other Weasley girl - Ginny! Where? No where, I tell you! This is not going good.

Bill turns around as he hears his sons calling to him. He gives us a weird look, raising an eyebrow when he lands on me. I shrug.

"What happened _now?_" he asked, sounding a bit annoyed. I would be. My hands arms are going to fall off soon.

"Jean cheated in hide and seek!"

"Antonin's a big lie-face!"

Lie face. I like that. I should start using it. Hahahaha, _lie face_. Priceless.

"Auntie Katie was there!" Anotonin exclaimed, pointing a finger at me. Ugh... now everyone's going to blame _me._

"Auntie Katie, tell Papa that Antonin's a booger!" Jean says, crossing his arms, looking smug.

"Er..." I mutter, looking back and forth between them.

"Antonin's just stupid!"

"No, I'm not! You're stupid!"

"You tried to eat the cake!"

"At least I didn't touch it! You _touched _it, Jean!"

This is not happening.

"Be _quiet!_"

My head jerks up as everyone in the tent turns silent. There stands Bill, glaring at his two sons.

"What did you do?" he asks, looking at Jean and Antonin.

After the sudden explosion from Bill, the twins, seeming to be a bit frightened, did nothing but point to each other.

"I want an answer," Bill says, his voice raising with each word. "And I want one _now_."

He makes an advancing step towards the twins, muttering under his breath. I catch a few things like _'trouble makers'_ and _'just like Fred and George'_.

"_Aaaaiiii!_"

Before I know it, I feel two shuddering objects at my back, clutching tightly on my dress. Why is it that they have to hide behind me?

"Save us, Auntie Katie!" I hear one of them shriek, holding onto my dress even tighter. "He's going to yell at us!"

"He won't let us have any cake!" yells the other voice, sounding absolutely frightened.

"He's going to tell mama!"

"No! He's going to tell Grandma Molly!"

"Grandma Molly won't let us have any cake!"

"Or those really good cookies with the icing on them!"

I look up unsurely at Bill, whom, although looks really peeved, has a bit of a smile on his face.

"Get out from behind Auntie Katie," he tells them, more calmly.

But no, they won't. It's like my dress is some sort of magnet.

"Come on, you two! Come out!"

Why won't they just step aside and go get lectured by their father? Bill's an awfully nice guy. He's not going to hurt them. And why am I still the only girl in this stupid tent? And why do I see George, poiting at me, laughing like a psychopath? And why isn't Mr. Weasley doing anything? He's just sitting comfortably, on a couch, smiling brightly at me. This isn't happening. This -

"Wow Katie. It seems like you're a very popular girl."

I turn slowly around, biting my lip to keep from screaming.

And there's Oliver. Bold and brass.

Who, by the way, looks very nice in a suit. _Very _nice.

"_Uncle Oliver!_"

The twins seem to be out from behind my dress, and are now crowding around Oliver. Now how did that happen? A second ago, they were screaming about not having cake, and suddenly, they're just... there, right in front of Oliver? Maybe I'm just moving a bit slow today.

"Uncle Oliver! Guess what! I told my friends that I know you and ever since, they started giving me their lunch!"

"Oh yeah? Uncle Oliver, Jean doesn't get free lunch! He just takes it from other kids!"

Oh my... I turn to look at Bill, who seems to have adopted a look of confusion, surprise, fury, and humour.

"No I don't! Antonin's just lying, Uncle Oliver! They really do give it to me. Just because I know you!"

"Well, other kids know I know you too!"

"But you don't get free lunch!"

"Well, I'm always the captain on quidditch games!"

"No you aren't!"

"Yeah I am!"

"No!"

"Yes!

"No!"

"Yes!"

"I'M TELLING!" They bellow together, once more. "UNCLE OLIVER!"

Glad to say, it isn't me this time that they're complaining to.

"Um... I'm sure you both play quidditch very well," Oliver says, sounding uncertain, looking at Bill. Bill just shrugs.

"Oh, I'm better!" Jean announces, pushing his brother on the head. "Antonin's just jealous."

"Hey!" Antonin exclaims, pushing Jean on the back. "Don't push me!"

"You pushed me too!"

"Stop pushing!"

"_You _stop pushing!"

They both start shoving each other rather harshly, until another advancing step from Bill comes closer to them. In attempt to save themselves, they dash out of tent, screaming at the top of their lungs. Now isn't that a sight for a wedding.

I look over to Oliver who seems speechless. He turns to the opening of the tent, pointing at nothing, and then turns back to us, scratching his head. I want to laugh. But of course, it's impolite to laugh at someone's confusion. If he didn't look so stupid, I probably wouldn't want to laugh.

"Sorry about that, you two," Bill sighs, shaking his head. He nods at Oliver and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Those two are just... something else. Not as bad as Fred or George - " At this, Fred and George protest loudly, but Bill ignores them. " - Luckily not as bad as Fred and George. Or else we'd all be screwed. Hope they didn't ruin your dress there, Katie."

I hope so too. I turn around, checking my dress. Thank goodness. Just a few folds here and there from their fists. Luckily they weren't eating with their hands, or else my dress would be horrific. Taking out my wand, I perform a silent charm, making my dress as perfect as it was moment ago.

"You look beautiful."

I turn around to find Oliver once again, smiling at me. "Thank you. So do you!"

He raises an eyebrow at me. "You think I look beautiful too?"

What - no! "No! You're not beautiful!"

His face becomes even more confused as my own starts to redden.

"What I meant to say was," I explain, getting even redder by the second, "is that you look nice! Nice as in handsome, not beautiful! Not that you aren't beautiful or anything. Beautiful in a manly way - "

"I'm just going to stop you here," Oliver comments, as he chuckles at me, "before you embarass yourself."

Well, at least he saved me from making a fool of myself.

"So what are you doing here?" he asks, looking around the tent.

What kind of question is that? "I'm here for the wedding."

"I know _that_. But why are you _here? _From what I can see, you're the only female here."

"Well, thanks to Antonin and Jean, I was dragged here."

"Oh."

Is that all he can say? 'Oh'?

"Oliver! You made it!" Fred exclaims, coming over to us, and clasping Oliver on the back. "Good to see you made some time for me!"

"Anything for you, Fred," Oliver replies mildly, staring sidelong at Fred. "Besides, it's your wedding, To Angelina! Fierce character, she is."

"Fierce; just how I like it."

"Of course, she's not as fierce as me."

"I hear that!" Fred says, laughing a bit, and then giving me a wink. What the hell is that suppossed to mean?

"So when is George tying the knot?" I ask Fred, ignoring his wink. "Everyone's done it except him."

"Well, that's true," Fred says, more to himself than us. "You got Bill with Fleur, Charlie with his Romanian chick - what's her name, Giselle? Something like that. They eloped, so we've never exactly seen her up close. We will later on today in the reception. Couldn't make it to the actual wedding, that sly dog!"

"Er... yeah..." I murmur, rolling my eyes.

"Who else is gone from the clan?" Fred questions, tapping his chin with a finger. "Let's see... I don't know about Percy. For all we _do _know, he might've gone bending the other way. If you know what I mean." He elbows Oliver on the arm.

"Yes, Fred," Oliver replies tonelessly. "We know what you mean."

"Really? Oh, then... maybe these subtle hints of mine are a bit too obvious..." Fred mutters.

"Maybe," I repeat, folding my arms together.

"Anyway!" he says, going back to the original topic. "Ron's gotten himself married to Hermione - shock for all of us. I thought Hermione would be with someone a bit less thick as Ron, but hey - we're happy for them. Honest! I didn't know Ron had that much affection in him. And then Ginny and Harry. Can't say that anyone was upset about that one. Mum literally cried her eyes out when Harry Potter proposed to little Ginevra. Gosh, it was pretty sickening seeing mum all over Harry."

"What are you three talking about?"

We all turn our heads to see George approaching us, oblivous to our conversation.

"Nothing," I say, a bit too quickly.

You can never get anything past George. He stares are me. "It's about me, isn't it?"

"_No!_' Oliver says, though he falters.

"Actually, yes, we were just talking about you," Fred announces, looking at his brother with a straight face.

"What about?" George asks, looking closely at all three of us.

"We were just discussing when you'd get married."

Continuing to look at us, George suddenly breaks out in laughter. "_Married? _Hah! I'm enjoying life right now, bouncing here and there. It's much more fun. Imagine waking up to the same face, day after day, year after year, until the sweet release of death. I don't know if I could handle it."

With that said, he strolls off, in the direction of his father. I turn to look at Fred uncertainly. He seems a bit shocked at George's comment. Is he thinking about the whole 'sweet release of death' thing? Gosh. George can really be insensitive sometimes! Besides, Angelina is one of the best people I could ever meet!

"Fred?" Oliver asks, waving a hand in front of Fred's face. "Fred?"

"You know," Fred says, looking out into space. "While she's sleeping, I could put some of that papaya clay on Angie's face and take a picture of it. It's going to be _awesome!_"

He smiles hugely at us, with a look of insanity in his eyes. He sprints off out of the tent, before calling out, "Wedding! Ten minutes! Get there before you're late!"

At this comment, everyone in the tent seems to be murmuring to themselves, and starts to bustle out. Following the crowd, I begin to get out of the tent, before people start shoving me back. If I weren't wearing a dress, I'd shove them back. Plus, being a girl, I'm easily shoved. Humph.

"You look angry," Oliver comments, as he suddenly appears beside me.

"I'm being shoved!" I hiss, as another person seems to have pushed me further back into the line. This is not cool!

"It's a dog eat dog world out here," Oliver says lightly, but I hardly hear him as the people have pushed me behind even back.

Sighing, I stand still, waiting for everyone to get out. This is so stupid. When did so many come to be in this tent? All I saw were probably six! Do I even know half of these people? Nope. Probably relatives. I know the Weasleys are a big family. And Agelina's got a lot of first, second and third cousins coming...

"Come on, Katie! You're going to be late!"

I look up, seeing Oliver offering me a hand. Now how did he manage to get back here with the crowd going the other way?

Taking his hand, he gives a sudden pull, hollering, "Excuse us! Trying to get out! Lovely lady here! _Don't step on her dress!_"

Well, this works too. And alas, here we are, out of the tent. Good grief.

"How did you manage to get us out of the tent?" I ask Oliver, as he leads us to the mass of chairs.

"Don't let them push you back."

"Well, I'm not as strong as you."

"I know."

And there goes his conceitedness once more.

"All you have to do," he says, turning around to face me, "is learn how to block. See how being a Keeper gives you such talents? Exactly!"

"Sure," I reply, biting my tongue.

"Besides, it's a good thing you're with me. I make up strength for the both of us."

"I'm not _that _weak!" I protest, coming to a halt on the spot. He had still been holding my hand. Maybe if I just stop here, I can prove that I'm strong. Well, I am strong!

"Come on, Katie. We won't get good seats," he says, tugging on my hand.

"So?"

"We're going to be late."

"Then go without me."

He stands there, looking at me, biting on his lip. He then heaves a frustrated sigh at me. Hah! I win this round. See? I'm pretty strong -

"_Hey!_" I exclaim, as out of nowhere, my arm feels like it's being pulled out of its socket. "What the fuck, Oliver!"

"Just getting you moving on your feet!" he calls, dragging me to the seats.

So maybe - just maybe - I'm not as strong as I thought I'd be.

Giving up on trying to withstand him, I make my way beside him, still holding his hand. Calloused hands. Oh well... quidditch _does _kill the hands. Like this one time, where Alicia whipped the quaffle at me, and I had to stop it by using my bare hands to shield my face. I cracked three fingers and the quaffle tored the skin on my palms.

He leads us to seats near the middle on the right side, where Fred's crowd seems to be. Looking around I can see Jean and Antonin, who had suddenly ran to the two front seats closest to the side near the aisle. I smile to myself as I see them harass an old lady - probably their great-grandmother as she looks a bit like Arthur Weasley, to get the seats. Seeing this, Fleur comes along, taking each by the hand and scolding them. Great-grandma Weasley returns to her seat, seeming a bit flustered. I don't think Fleur should be screaming. I heard screaming or any type of anger for pregnant women aren't good. Oh, there's Bill, taking the twins away from their mother, and seating them in the second row, at the two seats nearest the aisle.

And there's Ron and Hermione, two rows in front of us, Ron holding their baby over his shoulder. He's such a cute baby! Even if he does drool bit... ew... he just drooled on Ron's shoulder. Ah well... he won't notice when it dries up. Harry and Ginny make their way beside Ron and Hermione, before turning and waving at us. Oliver and I wave back, and Harry has this weird exchange with Oliver. Whatever it's about, I don't want to know. Not that anyone asked me anyway... Hey, where's their son? Didn't they have a son? I could've sworn they had a son! He looks just like Harry, without the glasses. Hey... is it just me, or does every single one of the new clan of Weasleys, seem to be boys? I don't think Molly and Arthur have a granddaughter yet... funny.

Wow! Professor Lupin's here again! With his young wife. Oh, ouch. She trips over a chair leg. I hope she doesn't cause them to go flying again like before... Maybe it's good that she's married to Lupin. He picks her up quickly and ushers her to a seat near the back. Professor Lupin always did respond quickly. Like how when Fred and sneaked a pumpkin pasty into class. He confiscated it. Or, in other words, ate it himself.

A high pitched musical note is heard, and immeditaely, a fleet of heads turn towards the back. There's Alicia, looking nervous, clutching tightly onto her single flower. Interesting. I thought she'd be carrying at least a few more flowers.

As the music continues on, Alicia strolls down serenely, smiling at everyone. She looks great. But then again, she hast to, since she's Maid of Honour. When she spots me, she mouths a 'hi' which I mouth back. She hides a small giggle by subtley bringing her flower up to her face, pretending to smell it. Nice.

When she makes her way to the end of the aisle, she takes her place at the left, waiting, and looking at the direction where the rest of us look at.

Next up on the aisle is - oh, so I was right. Harry and Ginny do have a son. And he's going down the aisle. Riding a Hippogriff. Huh.

Many of the crowd gasp as they see the little boy, riding down the aisle on a Hippogriff. One hand is clutched to a leash, while the other one is expertly holding onto a cushion with two rings. He looks so adorable there! I see Ginny taking out her camera, snapping up endless photos of her son riding the Hippogriff.

"Hi mum!" he calls out to Ginny, taking a hand off the leash, waving at Ginny. "Mum!"

"Hand on leash, Jeffrey!" Ginny calls out, trying to sound as quiet as possible, looking terrified. "Hand on leash! Harry! He's going to fall!"

Ginny shoves the camera into her husbands hands, as she hurries forward. She runs up to her son, and places his hands on the leash.

"Don't let go!" she warns, heading back to her seat.

"Sorry, mum!" Jeffrey calls out, looking a bit bashful. I can feel Oliver shaking with laughter beside me.

We watch as the boy and his Hippogriff make their way to the of the aisle.

"To the right, Bucky!" Jeffrey says, pointing to the spot behind George, who was standing beside Fred.

Two rows in front of me, Ginny is clutching at her heart and Harry's arm. Hermione fans her, while patting her back. Mothers.

When Jeffrey is down the aisle, a new tune starts. Well, here goes nothing. Time for the Bride to walk the aisle.

Everyone gasps in delight, as they see Angelina. I can hear Mrs. Weasley up at the front, crying not so quietly, and Mrs Johnson on the otherside, making loud exclamations on how pretty her daughter is. Angelina smiles brightly, as she slowly makes her way down the aisle, holding her father's arm.

Taking out my camera, I begin to take picture of Angelina, walking down the aisle. She sees me, and pauses to pose for me. Many people start to laugh softly at this. After, she continues on. Good. Nothing's happening. I would've thought that Fred or George would plan some big fiasco. It's so them to do it. She's almost at the end of the aisle. Thank goodness they decided not to do anything, or else -

"_Fred!_"

Nevermind.

In front of Angelina, a billion fireworks start to go off. Luckily, no one is close enough for the fireworks to hit them.

"Fred!" Angelina cries, giving a stern look at him. "What are you trying to pull?"

"Just thought we'd go off with one last bang before Holy Matrimony," he replies, smiling at her.

Up at the front, especially, people are screaming bloody murder. Well, no. I'm exaggerating on that, but they're still screaming. Jean and Antonin have leapt off their seats, running around Angelina, laughing freely. They wree both trying to get as close to the fireworks as they dared, until Arthur Weasley pulls them by the collars, handing them back to Bill, who's looking inbetween angry and amused. He hurries his boys off to where Fleur stands, as far away as possible from the fireworks, incase they come into contact with her pregnant belly.

"_Jeffrey!_"

My head turns as I hear a high scream, coming from Ginny. The Hippogriff had suddenly flew into the sky, probably out of fear for fireworks, taking the boy with him.

"_Jeffrey!_" Ginny shrieks, looking up horrified at the sky.

"Don't worry!" I hear Harry say, sounding relaxed. "Buckbeak's not going to do anything to him."

After this comment, I can hear Harry moaning, cluthing his shoulder. I think Ginny's pummelled him. At the excitement and noise, Ron and Hermione's son starts bawling his little eyes out, adding to the sound effects. I mean, the boom from the fireworks are enough to cause deafness, what with them exploding so near to us. And with Ginny's screaming, Harry's moaning, the crowd shrieking, and the baby's crying, not to mention Antonin and Jean's laughing and Bill and Fluer's scolding, the volume is quite loud.

"This is _awesome!_" Oliver bellows through the noise, smiling at me.

I shake my head slowly at him, covering me ears. It's still not working.

Everyone turns their head to the back as an extremely loud whistle errupts. Professor Lupin is standing on a chair, with two fingers in his mouth, whistling at the Hippogriff. At the sound, the Hippogriff flies down to the back of the crowd, with Jeffrey. As the Hippogriff settles down, Lupin picks up Jeffrey, who's laughing rather excitedly, screaming "Again, again!"

Pushing people out of her way, Ginny runs to the back, taking her son out of Lupin's arms and hugging him.

"It's okay, mum!" Jeffrey says, patting Ginny on the head. "It's really fun! Like on a broomstick!"

"I wonder if it really is like a broomstick," Oliver mutters to himself, looking piqued. I hit him lightly on the arm. "What? I'm just wondering..."

"I still have the rings, Uncle Fred!" Jeffrey yells to the front, holding the pillow at his head. Amazing. How he managed to hold onto the pillow, with the rings on them while flying sky high on a Hippogriff. Amazing.

Getting back onto the Hippogriff, much to his mother's protests, Jeffrey rides to the front in his original place. Fred runs forward, and stops the fireworks with a small flick of his wand. Immediately, the crowd falls silent.

"My apologies, to those who I've frightened," Fred says, spreading his arms out. But then, he gives everyone a weird look. "No, I'm not actually. Let's begin! I'd like to get married before tea time!"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"That was quite festive."

Oh, indeed it was. To this moment, Ginny is still sending death glares at Fred, and keeping her son as close as possible. Antonin and Jean are still running around - but don't they always? Harry has endured more of Ginny's unknown strenght. He tried to talk Ginny into letting Jeffrey ride the Hippogriff once more. Ron's been holding a non-stop crying baby.

Mrs. Johnson is still frazzled by the fireworks. Mr. Johnson is still trying to receive hearing in his right ear. Mrs. Weasley is still scolding Fred, and George is... off with his date somewhere. Charlie arrived, holding a beautiful woman with dark hair, his wife. Her name is actually Aurelia. How Fred got 'Giselle'... I don't know.

It's the reception. And what a reception it is. Food is being served to all tables. In my table, there's Lee Jordan and his newly acquired girlfriend, Clarisse, Bill, Fluer, Charlie, Aurelia, Antonin, Jean, spots that are reserved for George and his date, and Alicia and her boyfriend, Elbert. With myself, and Oliver beside me. I was surprised to see George and Alicia, seeing as I thought they're suppossed to be at the table with Fred and Angelina, but they explained that the married couple wanted to eat like Kings and Queens. Meaning, by themselves, in the centre of it all.

"I didn't know Fred would've done the whole fireworks thing," I comment, picking up a piece of asparagus.

"Eh, it was obvious that he was going to do something," Lee says, shrugging. "It's Fred."

"I guess..."

Around the table, people are engulfed in their own conversations. Bill and Fleur are talking animatedly with Charlie and his wife. Antonin and Jean are holding a bet on who could eat the most chicken. Alicia and Elbert are muttering things to themselves. George and his girlfriend haven't been seen since half an hour ago. I talked with Lee, Oliver and Clarisse about jobs. So far, I have the shittiest one. No surprises there. Clarisse is some reporter for the Prophet.

"I don't understand how they can pile this much food on our plates," I say, picking at my food. "Who cooked so much?"

"Mrs Weasley," Lee replies, continuing with his own food. "She makes it great."

Yes, it's great. But I'm fucking full! Just when I think dinner's over, a new course comes, to be heaped onto my plate. I'm going to puke. Ugh. I'm so weak! I can't even handle food! Even Antonin and Jean can! And they'yre piling on _meat! _But then again, they're boys. So it's different.

"I am going to puke," I mumble, putting my fork down. I turn to my left. "Oliver, can you eat this for me?"

Men his size can eat. And eat a lot. I've seen Fred and George pack food by the ton. It's crazy! And when we were on the quidditch team back in Hogwarts, Oliver would make us eat as much as possible, to boost up our energy. And he ate a lot. Maybe he might eat this for me too.

"Why?" he asks, looking at me with concern. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I'm just full."

"You used to be able to eat."

"But then, I'd burn it all off from quidditch. There is no quidditch to burn this."

"At least eat _something_."

"I did! Didn't you have those five courses earlier? I ate."

"Eat some more."

"I'm full."

He looks at me, with his brows raised. "I'll eat it for you. But you hafta eat half of what's left before I take over for you."

Great. Half. That's like - I dunno, a _lot_.

"Do I have to?" I protest, sighing as I pick up my fork.

"Yes."

Heh.

Eating. I'm eating. And I'll be five pounds heavier by the end of the day. I hate gaining weight. Even if I _can_ do magic, I can't just magic the pounds away from me. Just a few more bites, Katie. You can do it. Who cares if you're fat? Who cares if you can't fit through a door? Because you don't want to be impolite. You must eat half of the plate so that Oliver Wood can have the rest for you.

"Here!" I say, pushing my plate to Oliver. "I'm done. I'm full... I can't eat anymore. It's yours."

Taking the plate from me, I hear him emmit a sigh, as he forks up the rest from my plate. Now, all I need to do is sit back, relax, and sigh in contentment.

"_Ew!_"

So much for sitting back, and relaxing in contentment.

"_Mama!_ Jean's spitting chicken on me!" Antonin exclaims, pointing to shards of mushed chicken on his suit.

"Jean! Vous ne crachez pas sur votre frère!" Fleur shrieks, seeing the chicken on Antonin's suit. It's a pretty nice suit, so I don't blame her.

I have no clue what she just said. But I'm guessing it's something about no spitting on your brother.

"_Mais mama!_" Jean says, defending himself, while sticking his tongue out at his brother. "Antonin crache dans mon soupe!"

I think this comment has something to do with soup. Interesting. Those boys are bilingual. French and English! That's pretty cool.

"Vous êtes stupide, Jean!" Anotonin says, hitting Jean on the arm, causing Jean to spit out more chicken.

"Non, je ne suis pas!" Jean exclaims, taking chicken out of his mouth, smearing it on his brother's hair.

"_Assez!_" Fleur yells, red in the face. "Parler votre père!"

"Oui, mama," they mutter, looking at each other cautiously.

The boys file in front of Bill, as he shakes his head, sighing. He leads them away from the table. Fleur, looking more frustrated, shakes her head too, and continues to talk with Charlie and Aurelia.

"I wonder what it's like to have kids," Oliver says, smiling. "Sounds intriguing."

Right. I don't mind having kids. I want two, you know, an even number? Anyway, as long as they aren't twins, I'm fine.

"I didn't know you were one to settle down, Oliver," I say, looking up at him surprised. "You were always on your feet, everywhere."

"Well, it's nice to sit back at home sometimes."

"Do you ever miss being at home?"

"Of course I do. I hardly see my parents, I'm like a complete stranger to Slinky, Mortimer depends on Slinky for food and changing... I just want to be able to be there for someone, you know? I don't want to play quidditch all my life."

Wow. Who would've thought Oliver Wood was so into being settled?

"And you _will_ be there for someone," I reply, patting him on the arm. "But first off, you just need to go find yourself a wife."

He turns to me, still patting his arm. Giving me an odd look, he stares at me in the eye. "Yeah..."

Why is he looking at me like that? Why? Why do I feel uncomfortable? Why is it that uncomfortable things seem to happen to me today? And why do I have this tingly feeling along my spine?

"Hello again, my peers! Wonderful day, is it not?"

Snapping out of his trance, Oliver shakes his head and smiles at me. We both turn to see George, leading his date. She smiles shyly at us, but for some reason, her eyes stop at Oliver.

"Everyone," George says, gesturing to his date. "This is Maurie, my lovely date."

I see he used the word 'date', not 'girlfriend'. Oh George. Seriously, when is this boy going to settling down?

"And these guys, Maurie," he says, pointing at all of us, "are my friends and family. This here's my sister-in-law, Fleur, my brother Charlie, and oh - I think this is his wife. What's your name? Aurelia? _Lovely_. This is Aurelia, Maurie. Where's Bill? Lecturing the kids? Interesting. You'll meet Bill and his kids later, Maurie. These are my friends, Lee, his girlfriend, Clarisse, Alicia - wonderful hair I must say, her boyfriend Elbert, Katie - and isn't she looking gorgeous tonight? And of course, this is, none other, than the famous Oliver Wood."

And once more, her eyes land on Oliver. Look at her. She's got this glint in those eyes of hers. Right there, in the iris. She planning something. I just know it. Yeah, I know! When a girl's eye start gleaming, it's when she sees something she wants. I've seen Alicia get it whenever she goes shopping, spotting a piece of jewelery. Or my own mother, when she sees this really expensive piece of porcelain. But I think, in this case, the prize is Oliver.

She's not getting Oliver. No way. I mean, I know she's George's date. But it's pretty obvious that he'd throw her away the next day. Of course, I don't approve of his wrong-doings, but she seems to be like him. Like they're both just in it for the snog. Well, she's not getting her hands on Oliver. I refuse to let her get him.

Wait a tick. Why do I care?

Why _do _I care? It's not like Oliver's my anything. I know he wants to find someone to settle down with. And this Maurie girl seems more than willing. So why should I stop her? She might just be Oliver's something...

Do be ludicrous, Katie. You know she's a gold digger.

But do I? Maybe she really likes him.

Oh please. She's the type that goes for the rich famous guys.

I really shouldn't care. It's Oliver's life anyway. Not mine. I'm not in charge of it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

So, through this whole entire time, I've been sitting here, tapping my foot. Jean and Antonin came back, looking a bit sullen. Bill came back looking satisfied that he taught his children a lesson. Whatever that lesson was. And him and Fleur are still talking with Charlie. George has been in deep conversation with Alicia, which is quite odd. They seem to be flirting, but maybe I'm just hearing wrong. Elbert's talking with Lee and Clarisse. And for the whole frickin time, Maurie has been all over Oliver.

And I really don't think he minded at all.

He's been smiling ever since she started talking to him. And she's been touching his arm for god knows how many times.

All I've been doing his drumming my fingers and tapping my foot. Bored.

Dinner's over. Fred and Angelina's first dance is over. Many of the people are now dancing. Except my table, which seems to be filled with talking. Me being the exception, of course.

I look over at the dance floor, where it's covered in smiles. Little Jeffrey is on Harry's shoulder, Harry holding Ginny while they danced, and Jeffrey hugging his mother's head. Cute. Mr and Mrs Weasley doing an old fashioned three-step thing. Mr and Mrs Johnson doing a full on swing. Fred and Angelina sweeping everywhere possible on the floor. Ron and Hermione, dancing, the baby tied onto Hermione's back with a sling. Professor Lupin and his wife, looking relaxed. A couple that seems to not be following the music, but their own beat. Everyone's so happy. And there's Jean and Antonin, dancing together, banging their booty together.

I can't take this. I'm bored out of my mind. I'll just go... I'll go to the tent. I left my bag there. And a book. Maybe I could read my book until people start to disintegrate. No one's goin got notice me going anyway. No one noticed me being silent throughout two hours.

Standing up slowly, I cast one last look to see if anyone notices. And as I predicted, no one does. Oh well.

There's nothing better than reading, right?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It's been two hours. And still, the crowd is going strong. Or that's from what I can hear. Songs are still playing, and I can see a small glow from the flap of the tent, which indicates that the party is still on.

And for two hours, I've been here, trying to read.

It's impossible to read. And I don't even know why! This is suppossed to be perfect reading conditions! Even if I am in a rather tight dress and my hair's up, it's still suppossed to be good reading! It's quiet, there's candelight, a small breeze flowing in through the flap of the tent. All you can hear is the faint sound of laughter and music. The couch here is like marshmallow-soft. So why can't I concentrate on reading?

Yes, that's right. I'm concentrating on other things.

Other things being Oliver Wood.

This is so stupid! If I hadn't went to Fred and George's party last month, I would have never met up again with Oliver. I would have never gotten to be friends with him again. And I wouldn't be bothered if he's taken a liking to Maurie.

I'm confused. I don't know why I'm feeling like this. I shouldn't be feeling like this. Really. I'm not his girlfriend, so there's no need to be jealous. I'm not jealous.

I'm _not_

Besides, it's not that I like him or anything. Well, I do like him. If I didn't, I wouldn't be his friend. But I don't like him _that _way. Of course I don't. Honest!

So stop accusing me.

_"Where is she?"_

_"I don't know! It's like she disappeared!"_

_"She wouldn't leave. Not without saying goodbye."_

Oh great. Just what I need. Someone to disturb my reading. Or my thoughts. Which ever. And they're getting close by the damn second.

_"Who knows? I haven't heard her utter a single word all night."_

_"She's got to be here. Somewhere."_

_"Well, can you find her? Because I can't!"_

_"Gosh, will you calm down? I'm sure that wherever she is, she's taking care of herself - "_

"_There_ you are!"

Are they talking about me? Because those voices seem awfully loud.

I look up to see George and Oliver, looking relieved. Well, Oliver's looking relieved. George is just looking like George.

"See, Oliver? I told you she could take care of herself," George says, shaking his head at Oliver.

I give a questioning look.

"We thought you left," Oliver answers, seeing my face.

Well, at least we know they've finally acknowledged my lack of presence.

"Yeah right!" scoffs George, waving a hand. "This guy thought you got kidnapped!"

"Why would I be kidnapped?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"How should I know the way his brain works?" George accuses, rolling his eyes. "So you planning on coming back to the party? Or would you like us to leave you alone with your book?"

Sighing, I close my book, and put on my heels. "Might as well get back to the festivities."

"Great!" George exclaims, taking my wrist. "You don't want to miss the last dance!"

Of course I don't.

That was sarcasm, by the way.

I follow George silently, as his grip loosens around my wrist. I look sidelong at Oliver who seems expressionless.

"Got something on your mind, Oliver?" I ask him, turning my head fully towards him.

He jerks, as if coming out of thought. "No. I'm fine."

"Oh."

George seems to be talking to us, but I'm not listening. It's probably about some big joke he once played on someone. And I don't think he notices the lack of attention he's receiving.

" - so I was like, someone called you an owl. And he goes _'who?'_ Hahaha, you get it? Owls say _'hoo'_... Anyway, here we are!"

And here we are. It seems like the music has be turned to slow jams. Well, might as well go find my seat at the table... Spotting Fleur and Bill, I head over towards a table, until I hear Oliver call my name.

Stopping, I turn to face him. "Yes?"

He pauses, like he's thinking about asking me something. He wants me to dance with him! I didn't know Oliver could dance! Now isn't this cool? I'm going to be dancing with Oliver Wood, famous Keeper of the Wimbourne Wasps. Well, not that I care who he plays for. I'm going to dance with Oliver Wood, my ex-captain who hated things such as dancing. He's going to ask me to dance!

"Would you like to - "

_"Oliver!"_

He winces as his name is being called. Slowly, I look over to my right. Maurie strolls our way, stopping beside oliver.

"Where have you been, Oliver? I've been looking for you for the past ten minutes."

"Oh," he stutters, his face getting pink. "I was just... looking for Katie."

"Why?"

"Because she was gone."

"Well, that's quite nice of you!" she says, smiling at him. She then turns to look at me. "Isn't he such a thoughtful person?"

"I guess," I mumble, a bit pissed off at her interruption.

"So anyway,' she says, seeming to have forgotten about me just like that, and turning back to Oliver. "Would you like to dance with me, Oliver?"

He looks surprised. Well, don't we all. Even George looks a bit surprised. And he's just been standing there in the background.

"Sure," Oliver replies, holding out his hand for Maurie.

For some reason, it feels as if some sort of boulder has just dropped fifty feet into my stomach.

I watch as they both head to the dancefloor. I'm just standing here. How pathetic am I? Why did you let her interrupt? If you would have just said yes quickly, then he'd be dancing with you! Gosh, you're stupid.

Isn't it fun to console yourself?

"Come on, Katie," George says, holding out his hand for me. "I guess you're left to dance with me, seeing as my date has taken off with some other guy."

Unlike me, George is still himself as usual. I don't think he even cares that Maurie just left him for Oliver. How can't he? Doesn't he feel like he's just been burnt? I know I do. And I don't even know why, since I'm not even Oliver's date to this thing anyway.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Congratulations, you two."

"Wonderful party, it was."

"Can you make more fireworks, Uncle Fred? Please?"

The party is finally over. Thank god for that. Everyone's lining up to wish Fred and Angelina well, before they head off to their 'vacation'. Instead of Honeymoon, they've decided to call it vacation, since it's in the summer. But it's just for two weeks in Spain. So... I don't know.

And alas, tis my turn. What should I say?

"It's great to see you two finally united," I tell them, smiling.

"I can't agree with you more!" Fred says, giving his bride a kiss on the cheek.

"I'm so glad you came, Katie," Angelina says, giving me a genuine smile. "It just goes to show that you're willing to put us before your job."

It's true. I have so much due in three days, but hey - it's their wedding!

"I've got to get going now," I say, taking a glance at Fred's watch. "I've got to be up by seven tomorrow..."

"Thanks again," Angelina whispers, as she gives me a tight hug. Not wanting to be left out. Fred hovers around until finally wrapping his long arms around us.

Laughing, we finally release each other, as I give a final wave to the newlyweds. I'm really happy for them. They're like the perfect match.

"Are you going home now?"

I jump a bit, as someone suddenly comes up beside me. Spinning around, I see Oliver, with his hands in his pockets.

"Yes," I answer harshly, continuing my way to the tent where I left my bag and book.

"Would you like me to accompany you?"

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Rolling my eyes, I march into the tent, retrieving my book and bag, that were palced on the couch. Turning around to get out, I jump back again, to see that Oliver's still behind me.

"What?" I ask bluntly, walking past him, out of the tent.

"Is something bothering you?" he asks, jogging to keep up with my long strides.

"No."

"It sounds like something's bothering you."

"Nothing is bothering me."

"Katie, I know you - "

"Actually, Oliver, _no,_ you don't know me."

"What's wrong?"

"I already told you that nothing is wrong. Everything is fine."

"No, it's not."

"Everything is great. Everything is fine. Everything is just fancy. _Get the message?_"

"No, I don't."

I come to a halt, clutching my head in frustration. Why is he still here? Why does he always seem to find me? Where is that stupid Maurie girl when you friggin need her?

"What do you _want?_" I demand, glaring at him.

He seems taken aback by my sudden anger. "I just wanted to know what's eating you."

"Nothing is eating me. You see, I'm perfectly whole."

"Okay then. I want to know what's got your panties in a twist."

"My panties are perfectly fine. And they're none of your business!"

"I'm just trying to help."

"Well, it's not helping."

I heave a sigh, shaking my head vigorously.

"Katie - "

"Oliver, don't you have someone else you should be saying goodbye to?" I ask, spinning on my heel to face him.

He stumble backwards, but catches himself. "What do you mean?"

I stare at him. He is unbelievable. "Nothing. Just forget it. It's nothing."

"If you would just _tell _me what's wrong - "

"I have every right to keep anything I have from you!"

"Really, Katie. Stop being so unreasonable - "

I'm about to retort, until I see a figure making their way towards us. Maurie.

"There's Maurie," I say, nodding at the figure coming our way.

"I'm not blind," Oliver retorts, crossing his arms.

"You can go say goodnight to her. I'll be off."

"Katie - "

"_Goodbye,_ Oliver."

And with that, I take out my wand, and Disapparate, back to my flat.

* * *

such a long chapter, i know. i realized that since i'm moving, i might not be able to get a chapter in a few days, so... here it is. think of it as two chapters, combined into one. it's not that hard... anyway, thanks for reviewing. don't hesitate to review this chapter either!


	7. He Says He's Sorry

**a/n:** okayyyy sorry for the long wait. AND THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS! i am so heppy. seriously.

hope you like this chapter. maybe you wont. i dont know. just review this chapter too, kay? kay.

* * *

"I don't know what's wrong with my fish!"

"Please be patient, Miss! I am trying to figure it out!"

Yeah right. They are doing _nothing_. Nothing to help my poor Float. Yes, I have finally decided to bring him to the Menagerie and find out what's wrong with him. Or her. I don't know!

"He's not dying is he?" I ask, in a terrified voice.

The man behind the counter, who introduced himself as Mr. Eireganem, when I stepped into the store, has apparantly lost his patience with me. I don't know though. I mean, all I did was worry about my fish. And I _should_ be worried! This was one hell of an expensive fish! And it's been doing nothing but float around in the stupid bowl.

"As I've stated for the past eighteen times," Mr Eireganem growls, glaring at me through his magnified glasses, "I'm trying to figure it out! Please, for the final time, be patient!"

"But I - "

"Patience is a virtue, Miss!"

"I know, but - "

"PLEASE!"

Humph. Is it a crime to worry about my dying fish? I don't think so! What's up his ass today? And shouldn't he be done analyzing Float by now? I mean, the guy has been at it for what, eighteen minutes? Some expert. He's getting too old. Losing his touch. Stupid geezer.

"What's going to happen if he dies?" I ask, hovering around Mr Eireganem. "I don't want him to die! He was my first fish and - "

Without warning, he suddenly turns on his heels to face me, stopping me in my tracks.

"If you must _know_," he breathes, his brows furrowing together, "you are getting _rather_ annoying. My _dear_, if you will not quit the pestering of questions, I am afraid that I will need to send you away, along with your fish!"

Now isn't that rather rude.

"You can't do that!" I cry, pointing an accusing finger at him. "Dear life is between your hands!"

"And it won't be as long as you keep interrupting me!"

"I purchased this fish from your store!"

"Well, sorry, whoever sold it to you isn't me."

"But you have to save him! It's your responsibility!"

"That might be, yes, but with you, hovering around - "

"I will report you if you don't save my fish!"

"Well, if you would stop pelting me with your questions, I might be able to find out what is wrong with your fish!"

"What's wrong with questions? I want to know how progressive my fish is doing!"

"If you would stop interrupting me, then I could concentrate better! You are wasting valuble time right _now_!"

He gives a huff and turns his back on me, going back to Float. My questions aren't annoying. I'm just caring for my fish. He doesn't have to be so mean.

The doorbell jingles as we both turn around, to find an elderly witch clutching a massive cat. It seems as though the cat was losing fur, because there were bald patches on it. The witch herself looked like she had been crying for Merlin knows how long, and the cat just lies limp in her arms.

"My cat!" she wails, holding out the cat. "My cat! He's losing fur! And I don't know why! Save him! Save my poor baby!"

Immediately, Mr Eireganem abandons Float and goes over to the witch, plucking the cat from her. He brings the cat over to another table, and starts to observe it.

_Hey!_ He's suppossed to be attending to Float! What the fuck? He can't just leave Float there, and not do anything about it! What is this? This is a blasephmy! What kind of rude, ignorant, cruel man would do that to a fish? And a customer?

"Excuse me!" I exclaim, walking over to the witch, the cat and Mr Eireganem. "What are you doing?"

He looks up at me with the most evil glare. "I'm saving a cat."

Unbelieveable. "I was here first!"

"I know that."

"So why are you attending to the cat?"

"Because the cat is in more mortal danger than that fish!"

Did he just say what I think he just said? The cat is in more danger? AT LEAST WE KNOW THE CAT IS ALIVE! For all I know, my fish could be dead! All this damn cat's problem is fur loss! Just glue the missing furs back on, jeez. MY FISH IS DYING HERE!

"My fish," I say, trying to remain as calm as possible, "is on the verge of death."

"And so is my cat!" the witch cries indignantly, peering down at me from her nose.

"Preposterous!" I cry, marching up to the witch. Ha! I'm taller! "Your cat is alive, and breathing!"

"He is losing fur!"

"My fish is losing _life_!"

"What is more important, the life of a fish, or that of a cat?"

"They're both important but - "

"But the cat is more important! Now get out of the way, wretched girl!"

_Ohhhhh!_ That _bitch!_

"MY FISH IS DYING!" I scream at both the witch and Mr Eireganem, causing many of the animals on the shop to respond by shrieking. "HOW CAN YOU POSSIBLY NOT CARE? _HOW_?"

"Miss, _please_ - " Mr Eireganem starts, but I cut him off.

"I WAS HERE FIRST! I BROUGHT YOU MY FISH FIRST! MY FISH IS DYING, AND YOU DON'T EVEN GIVE A SHIT, LET ALONE TWO! THIS CAT IS PERFECTLY FINE! JUST GIVE IT SOME FUR POTION! BUT MY FISH IS DYING!"

"Miss, patience - "

"_IS NOT ONE OF MY FUCKING VIRTUES!_"

"Quit your yelling, girl - " the witch cries, covering her ears.

"NO, I WILL NOT! NOT UNTIL YOU SAVE MY FISH!"

"Stop yelling!"

"JUST SHUT UP AND SAVE MY FISH!"

"Miss," Mr Eireganem pleads, looking helplessly at me. "Please, I will save your fish, but first I must - "

"YOU MUST? YOU _MUST?_ HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU THAT MY FISH IS DYING?"

"I know that, Miss, but you really need to keep your voice down - "

"I WILL _SUE!_"

At this, Mr Eireganem looks at me, flustered. "What is this '_sue_'?"

Sometimes, the magical world can drive one absolutely insane. "I WILL REPORT YOU - "

The doorbell jingles once more as someone new comes into the store, holding an owl cage. Wearing sunglasses. Who looks exactly like Oliver Wood.

Whaddya know, it's Oliver Wood.

He comes into the shop, taking off his sunglasses, peering at me uncertainly, with an eyebrow raised. He looks around at the scene, with myself and the witch inches from each other, glaring at each other. And Mr Eireganem, looking as lost as he possible could.

"Er... I just wanted to get some owl treats," he says slowly, cautiously making his way towards us, pointing at Mortimer in the cage. "Eeylop's is closed, so I thought that maybe you'd have some."

Mr Eireganem lightens up and smiles at his new customer. "Yes, we do, but first, I must tend to this cat."

First tend to the _cat?_ How much more clearer can I make myself? _Float is dying!_

"MY _FISH!_" I yell, taking a hold of the man's shoulders and shaking him violently. "MY FISH! NOT THAT STUPID CAT! MY FISH IS _DYING!_"

"Let go!" Mr Eireganme cries weakly, as I wobble him even more. "My glasses - !"

"I WAS HERE FIRST! MY FISH IS DYING! AND YOU DON'T EVEN _CARE_!"

I shake him even harder, ignoring his gasps for air. If my fish dies, he'll die too!

Okay, I'm not _that_ evil. I'm just trying to imply the fact that I'm _very_ worried for my fish. How can he not care about -

DID THIS WOMAN JUST _SLAP _ME?

I let go of Mr Eiregnaem, turning slowly to the witch. Her arm is out, face red, and still looking indignant. She raises her arm again, as if to slap me one more time.

Oh, I'm ready. I am _so _ready! Self defense, kiddo! It's not that hard. Do what mum told you to do! No old witch is going to harm you!

As her arm is about to come down, I ready my foot, but she stops.

Oliver has taken a hold of her wrist.

"What are you doing?" the witch exclaims, turning around to face Oliver. Her wrist is still captured by him.

He glares down at her. And let's just say that he _is _pretty provoking, since he's like what, two heads taller than the woman?

"You hit her one more time," he warns her, his voice unnaturally low and calm, "and I will personally make sure your cat doesn't see another day."

The witch tries to talk, as her mouth seems to be moving. No words are coming out. Honestly, is Oliver really _that _frightening? He's always been nice. How can he be so terrifying -

_Ooooh._

I look closely at him, as his whole appearance seems to be mutated. His brows are so furrowed that it seems to have covered all of his eyes, except small slits. His jaw is tight, with the thinnest lip. Oh, and he's got some vein sticking out at the side of his neck. Nevermind then. He really _is_ a scary sight when he's angry.

As the witch quails under his glare, he finally releases her, and steps over to Mr Eireganem. The shop had been unusally quiet.

"What happened?" he asked the shop keeper, as if nothing had occured. He's back to his previously bright self.

"Oh, well," he stutters, looking from myself to the witch. He points to me. "This young lady brought in her fish because she suspects that it is dying. So I tried to confirm the problem."

"But you didn't!" I protest, stepping over to them. "You _didn't!_"

"I tried!" he cried, looking angry again. "You just wouldn't stop talking!"

"It's not talking, it's questioning! About my fish's health! And you didn't do anything"

"I didn't do anything? I've been spending eighteen minutes looking at that fish - "

"As if! You just stared at it! You made no progress! You can't spend eighteen minutes looking at a fish and see _nothing!_"

"Well, I didn't see anything! So maybe, nothing is wrong!"

"Nothing's wrong? It's been floating at the surface for three bloody months!"

"Maybe - "

I cut him off, and turn over to Oliver. "Tell Mr Eireganem here, that he can't just _abandon_ a patient and move onto another one without solving the problem!"

At this, Oliver raises an eyebrow at Mr Eireganem. "You just left the fish without doing anything to it?"

Breathing heavily, Mr Eireganem starts to fidget, shuffling his fingers together and ignoring our gaze.

"Where's your fish?" Oliver asks me, shooting glares at Mr Eireganem.

Being too angry to speak, I point over to the bowl in the corner of the shop. Oliver walks over, with me and everyone else behind him. Bending down, he peers into the bowl. And there's Float. Just... floating. Just _floating._

Oliver puts down the cage with Mortimer in it, and grabs the bowl, shaking it, swirling it, and doing everything that would cuase disturbance to the water. Nothing. He's still floating there. See? My fish is dying!

"And it's been like this for three months?" he questions, continuing to shake the bowl.

"It's obvious that it's already dead," the witch comments, holding her nose up high. "There isn't a point in bringing it here - "

Oliver gives her a terrifying look, and she quickly remains quiet. Stupid bitch. Teaches you to hit me! Of course, I could have defended myself, if Oliver hadn't been present. Really. I guess it's alright that he's here. I didn't have to make physical contact with the witch. I might inherit rabies by touching her.

"I'm just trying to help," she muttes, crossing her arms.

"Trust me, it's not helping," I retort, turning my head away from her, making sure my ponytail whips her in the face.

She gives an indignat cry but is once again silenced by a look from Oliver. And that, ladies and gentleman, is the power of the ponytail.

Out of nowhere - seriously, I didn't expect it, and I honestly don't think anyone else did - Oliver plunges a hand into the bowl, scooping up Float.

"_Oliver!_" I shriek, looking horrified as my fish sits calmly in his palm. "_Put him back!_"

Ignoring me, he holds out the fish, whistling a tune. What is _wrong_ with him? Is he retarded? Why on earth would you pluck a fish out its bowl? It's as if he's _trying _to kill my fish! Why would he do this do me?

"Well, Katie," he says, as my attention goes back to him and my fish. "Your fish is perfectly fine."

What is this guy going on about -

My gaze goes to his palm as Float seems to be jumping up and down. Gently, he tips Float back into the bowl, where the fish returns to his original post; floating on the surface.

I stare at my fish, confusion taking over me. "I dont get it."

"Scandanavian Floating Fish," Oliver replies, taking a towel from the table and wiping his hands.

"Scandanavian Floating Fish?" I repeat, dumbfouded.

He nods and smiles at me. "They float. Don't eat much."

"And how do you know this?"

"My uncles Gerard had one. Fascinating creatures, really."

I turn to Mr Eireganem. "I bought this from you. How could you not know it's a Scandanavian Floating Fish?'

He gets caught unaware at my sudden question towards him. "I - Well, I - but you - Floating - You bought it! How come you didn't know?"

"Because it was still swimming when I got it," I reply icily, crossing my arms. I look at Oliver. "Why did it swim when I got it?"

"Probably a baby," he answers, picking up Mortimer and the cage. "Babies swim, until they start to mature. Then they just float."

Boy, do I feel stupid. What with yelling at Mr Eireganem.

"I'm sorry, Mr Eireganem," I say, looking guiltily over at the man. "I was just worried for my fish and - "

:"Well, you should be sorry!" the witch cries, clutching her chest. "My cat over there is losing fur and all you can do is yell!"

"I thought my fish died!"

"And you thought wrong!"

"Why you - "

I'm about to launch myself at her until an arm is wrapped tightly around my waist. Craning my neck, I see Oliver with an amused smile on his face. I don't know why he's smiling. There is nothing funny about this situation.

"Come on," he heaves, pulling me out of the shop. "Outside."

As he pulls on me, I quickly grab Float and his bowl, relucatantly leaving the shop. Man, I was _so close _to tearing that woman apart! So close!

He keeps a steady hold around my waist, as if in case I would suddenly pelt away from him and attack the woman. I would, but now that we're so far from the shop, I'm not going to waste my energy in tracking her down. If I ever see her again, I think I will though.

Finally coming to a halt, Oliver plops me down on a bench, near the apothecary. He takes a seat beside, setting Mortimer on his other side. A moment of silence passes between us, as he fumbles around with Mortimer's cage, and I make unecessary checks on Float. This is comfortable. Extremely.

"So," he says, finally breaking the silence. "How've you been?"

Seeing as it's only been two weeks, it's really a stupid question. But it'll always be a stupid question with me. Every day is almost the same. My life revolves around eating, sleeping and working.

"Fine," I reply, my voice a bit high.

"Me too."

"Oh."

Yeeeeup. Very comfortable.

"Thanks for uh, saving my fish," I say, sounding a bit stupid. "I mean, even Mr Eireganem couldn't find out the problem."

He smiles slightly at my thanks. "It's alright. Besides, there wasn't really anything wrong with your fish."

Silence.

Maybe I should just leave. I was only here for my fish in the first place. Bumping into him was just coincidence.

"Alright then," I say, starting to stand up, "I should be - "

"Why did you run out that night?"

Damn. I was hoping to avoid that topic.

"What do you mean?" I ask, trying to stall. Don't continue. Please, don't continue.

"You just... took off. Angry."

"I wasn't angry."

That's a lie. And you know it. Shame on you, Katie. Shame, shame, shame.

"You sure sounded angry," he says, looking sidelong at me, drumming his fingers on his lap. "Come to think of it, you seem subdued for the whole night."

Subdued. What a fine choice of words.

"It's nothing," I mumble, putting the bowl beside me. "Just... forget it."

"No, I won't. I want to know why you ran off."

"It was nothing."

"It can't be nothing if you were angry. What were you angry at?"

"Nothing."

"So why did you get all... angry?"

"Nothing."

"Come on, Katie."

"Nothing."

I hear his sigh in frustration, and lean back roughly on the bench. Even his lean is strong. The whole bench shakes, I have to pick up the bowl, just in case Float suddenly falls out.

He's not talking to me. He just stopped talking to me. I think he's mad at me. Well, fine then! He can be mad at me all he wants. I'm mad at him too! I don't care if he's mad at me. It won't do anything. It doesn't affect me.

Why is he mad?

I watch as he unlocks Mortimer's cage, taking the bird out with him. The owl hoots with pleasure as he's being taken out. He flies over to sit ontop of Oliver's head, hooting shrilly at passersby. Oliver sits contently, with his arms folded lightly on his lap, looking calm, around Diagon Alley. I wonder what he's thinking.

I don't know what to do. Am I suppossed to just sit here, and keep him company? Or do I just leave? I mean, yes, I have dozens of reports to analyze - thanks to Jameson and him ignoring it all and leaving it to me to finish. But is it a bit rude to just leave him sitting here? Look at him. He seems so serene. Maybe I _should_ just go.

With the bowl still in my hand, I stand up. "I think I'll go now, Oliver. Thanks for saving my fish again."

He doesn't answer. It's as if he didn't even hear me. Well, that sure blows.

I stare at him, as if willing him to answer. But he doesn't. Yep. He's mad. People who are mad should be left alone. You know, have some space. I'll give him some space.

Walking away, I glance back at him. Still, he's sitting there, with Mortimer now on his shoulder. Look away. And just... walk away.

"You know, walking away doesn't solve much."

I freeze in my tracks, looking around. Who the fuck was that? As I turn once more to my left, I see Oliver beside me, Mortimer on the shoulder. Jumping back, my eyes narrow at him.

Instead of glaring back at me, he flashes a wide grin. I don't get him. I really don't get him. One minute, he's mad. Then he's sitting quietly. And now he's... elated. Absurd. He is an absurd man.

"I was thinking about ice cream," he says, looking around the place. "Want some ice cream?"

"Uh..."

"Come on! I'll treat you!"

"Oh... um... okay," I stutter, looking uncertainly at him. "Thank you."

He leads us to Florean Fortescue's - thankfully reopened since his arrestment - setting the cage down at a shady seat, with an umbrella. Now, how did we get from sitting silently on a bench, to sitting under an umbrella at Florean Fortescue's ice cream stand? Sadly, I am still confused.

"Is there a certain flavour you'd like?" he asks me, after transferring Mortimer to stand on top of his cage. "If not, I'll just choose something for you."

"Oh, uh... strawberry would be nice," I say, still looking confused. He gives me a smile and takes off.

I put my arms on the table, resting my head upon them. I really, really, _really _do not get it.

A sudden small bit of weight lands on my head, jumping around, tangling my hair. Great.

"Hello, Mortimer," I mutter, my head still on my arms. "How are you today?"

He hoots. Because I sure know what that means.

Lifting my head, the owl hops off onto the table, to fly on my shoulder. He really is a cute owl. Kinda. And will you look at that! He's not as creepy looking as before! He's got some more feathers. He's like a little furry ball. Owls this size are cool. Too bad this one's going to grow. At least he's nice...

"So Mortimer. How's Oliver treating you?" I ask the bird, as he hoots in my ear.

In response, the owl nips lightly at my ear. I giggle out loud.

"If only you were human, Mortimer. But thankfully, you aren't."

"Oh, I'm quite thankful he isn't myself."

Looking up from my shoulder, I see Oliver holding two cones, with a small cup balanced on his head. Quickly, I take the little cup on his head and set it down on the table, giving him a curious look.

"Mortimer likes ice cream. I got an extra scoop and a cup so he could have some," he says, smiling slightly. He holds out his his right hand. "Your ice cream."

"Thank you," I say quietly, taking the cone from him.

"Something wrong?" he asks, taking a seat as Mortimer flies over to his head again.

I shake my head. "Nothing."

"Of course. Everything is nothing these days."

What the hell is that suppossed to mean? See? I don't get him. He's mad, then he's happy, and out of nowehre, he's mad again. He has too many personalities. I can't keep up with them.

"I don't understand you, Oliver," I suddenly say, looking staright at him. "You're just... I don't know."

He raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"You're just... how can you be so... changeable?"

"Am I missing something here?"

"One minute you're happy, then you're angry. And when I say bye to you, you just sit there and ignore me. But when I walk away, you think of this stupid comment and offer to buy me ice cream! And now, you're all mooody again! I don't understand!"

"I don't know why you're accusing me of mood swings, Katie, when you've got them yourself."

"I'm a _girl!_ I'm allowed to have mood swings!"

He gives me a weird look, and continues to scoop out some ice cream for Mortimer. Well, girls _are _allowed to have mood swings, aren't they? We are allowed to use PMS as an excuse. Why can't we? Women suffer more than men do! We have to deal with PMS, the whole period, pregnancy, giving birth, and menopause! I think God made it because women are stronger.

"We're all different," he says, after spooning out Mortimer's ice cream, and feeding it to the bird. "We all have our faults. Maybe I'm just more prone to mood swings."

"I just don't understand," I reply quietly, looking away. "Are you mad at me?"

At this, he looks up oddly at me. "I think the question is, are you mad at _me_?"

Of course I am.

"_No_," I say tonelessly, looking away from him.

"Why are you mad at me?"

"I told you I wasn't mad at you."

"I've delt with enough women to know that when they say everything's fine, it really isn't."

I look over at him as he has this smug smile, as if he knows everything about women. Fine, he's right this time, but he doesn't know everything. I scowl at him, eating my ice cream.

"No need for the bitterness," he says lightly, licking his own ice cream. "Since you won't tell me what's eating you, I guess the only thing I can do is apologize for whatever it is. Sorry."

Like that makes everything better. He doesn't even know what he's sorry for! But... I don't wanna tell him. I'm not going to go say 'I can't believe you agreed to dance with her'. He's going to think I'm weird. And possessive. Which I'm not! And I really don't even know why it's bugging me, since I'm not anything towards him. I just met him a few months back. I really shouldn't be this bitter.

Unless...

_No_.

Just accept the apology and never speak of it again. He doesn't need to know why you're mad. He doesn't need to know anything except that you've accept his apology. Then everything is going to be fine. Everything is going to go back to normal. The same. No changes. And you'll quit feeling weird around him.

"Apology accepted," I say haughtily.

He shakes his head and laughs at me. "You're one weird person, Katie Bell."

"Thank you."

"Your welcome."

"Oh, you're serious."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Nothing," he says lightly, shrugging his shoulders. "It's just that... nevermind."

"What?"

"Well, you're the first woman I have ever met, who's accepted an apology without reason."

"Is it a bad thing?"

"No - believe me, I'm more than grateful that I'm back in your good graces. It's just surprising, that's all."

"I've forgiven you, and that's all that matters."

"So I take it you're never telling me what I did wrong?"

"Nope."

He gives a frustrated sigh, leaning on his chair. Shrugging, I give him a smile, eating my ice cream.

"Next time," I tell him, narrowing my eyes at him, "I won't be so leniant."

"And next time, I won't be so surprised."

* * *

alright people. sorry for the long wait on updating. i can honestly say that this school year hasn't started off well.

moving back to my old area is great. i mean, sure i'll see my friends. but once more, i must start a new school. namely, tomorrow. and as usual, i'm scared and nervous. will people jump me? i know where i live. i know what happens. i've done it myself. nothing bad, but i've done a few things i'm not too proud of.

i know i have law with my best friend, but thats all i know. so... yea.

i just got out of my old school, and for some reason, they still expect me to hand in an essay. I'M NOT EVEN IN THEIR SCHOOL AND THEY STILL EXPECT ME TO DO HOMEWORK. i know.

i've had three essays, two quizes so far in four days. i can now forsee that eleventh grade will be a tremendous ass kicker.

bear with me guys. updates wont be as frequent as they were in the summer. but continue reading!

maybe once a week, every other week, or a month. depends on my workload.

come back and read though, okay? okay. **AND REVIEW.**


	8. Beating Around the Bush

**a/n:** righto! i've finally decided to update. but that's only because i've just finished writing this chapter.

now, you might not like it, but whatever. be happy i've made a comeback. be happy that it's this friggin long. AND YOU KNOW WHAT! schools great. homework is a faggot, but it's still great. so i've gotten two detentions for uniform infractions and being late, but it's great! i have a spare! heeeheeee...

so on with the story dears!

* * *

Midpoints. I hate midpoints.

As of now, it is officially the midpoint of my summer vacation. Sucks, doesn't it? You may think not, but once you get to the midpoint, you automatically know that the second half will get shorter and shorter until finally, it's gone. Thats what happens with summer vacations. You do nothing with it, and once you get to the midpoint, you're thinking, 'What did I do?', 'Great' and 'Oh shit'.

What have I done so far this summer? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Well, if you don't count visiting with my parents something, then I did absolutely nothing. Because I don't count it as a good thing this year. Oh no.

My parents are really great people - honest! They even have the most charming story! Paulo Bell and Vecita Constanzea met each other during a friend's picnic, where Paulo had helped Vecita set up the tables. And since then, they've lived happily ever after. Okay fine, it's not the most charming story. But I think it's sweet. Why? They met when my mum was thirteen, and my dad eighteen. My parents are five years apart, so what? Nothing. That's what. Anyway, I think they got married when mum was seventeen, which makes dad twenty-two. So dad got married at my age. Great. And I'm still single.

But that was in what - the seventies? I think so. I know they had my brother the following year, and then myself three years later. And they're actually still together. Kinda makes you realize that somewhere out there, there really _are _committed people. I mean, if I were to stick with either one of them, I would freak out.

Anyway, so I go up to our old house, back in the day before I became a witch. I absolutely love my parent's house. It's not really a house; it's more of a cottage. A cute, quaint, stone cottage with only one floor. Yeah, no basement or second floor. But it was just right for four people. We've got a big backyard - but who doesn't in that area? It's in the country side, which makes it all the better. It's situated near a small town of only around two hundred people. Incredible, isn't it? Only two hundred people. So in otherwords, everyone knew everyone.

And then everyone got scared of me because I became a witch.

Right. Who cares. I don't even like them anyway.

So my brother, the famous rocket scientist, decided to come home too. Yup. My big brother Lance. He's the favourite of the family. Seriously. Because he's a rocket scientist. All caught up with his science... things. I wouldn't know - because _I'm_ not a scientist! Anyway, my brother is smart. Not smart like 'Oh hey, guess what guys! I aced my test!'. No, he's so smart that he doesn't even need to take the test. He writes the tests and grades them. He passed his years of school with flying colours. He's tall and, sadly, good looking. And tall. What parent - or girl - wouldn't want my brother? Of course, sometimes his brain capacity is a huge turn off, but still. He makes so much money, he can literally live off of what he has now for the rest of his life. And pay for everything of our parents. Dumb bastard.

I'm not the favourite. I'm not a scientist, my IQ is just average, and I didn't get any scholarship. I became a witch. The first in our little muggle-filled family. The whole family knows I'm a witch. Not that they think bad of it or anything. They're acutally quite impressed. But I'll just never be my brother when it comes to smarts.

I went to my parents' house, all fine and happy. Because for the first time in a very long time (it's only two years but my mum thinks of it as an eternity), Lance was coming home. From North America. Or maybe just America. As in, the United States? I asked him why not Canada, and he said his school was situated in the United States, and he just didn't think about moving. It's his choice.

Anyway, Lance came home. With his new girlfriend. And my mother fell in love with her right away. Her name's Geraldine. And Geraldine is just as smart as dear Lance - except she's in cancer research. As impressed as I was, I just felt so out of place there. I was in a house filled with smart scientists. Heh. Piss me off.

And the worst thing is, on my last night, my mum decides to bring up the topic of love lives. And I was the only one at the table who sat single. Yes. She asked why I didn't have a boyfriend. My father, of course, started going on about how his little girl shouldn't be dating at such a young age, and can _only _date once she's married (which makes no sense!), and my mother just had looks of pity.

So, after leaving, she said she wanted to meet a boyfriend of mine the following year.

Things just don't happen like that, mother. I don't go to picnics and suddenly see some hot piece of ass.

I had better find a boyfriend soon. That, or she'll just keep nagging at me.

And what am I doing now? Nothing. Okay, sitting - or lying - on my couch, staring at the sealing. Nothing to do today. Something to do tomorrow however. Fred and George somehow got Oliver to agree to an old 'Team Wood' reunion at his house. Meaning, we're going to be playing quidditch. Also meaning, my arm will fall off since the last time I ever played was back in Seventh year. For what - one round? Pathetic, I know.

Tomorrow, I will be going to Oliver's house. Tomorrow, I shall be playing quidditch. Tomorrow, will be a good farewell to my midpoint of summer vacation.

- - - - - - -

"And suddenly, quidditch has lost all its oomph."

I smile nervously, looking straight ahead. I agree. Quidditch has lost all its oomph.

"Why I agreed to this, I don't know."

True say.

"I can't believe I used to play this."

"Oh will you just relax, Alicia? It's not life threatening or anything."

Not true. Not true at all! I remember Oliver once telling the team that a century ago, a player was killed in quidditch. I don't understand how Angelina can be so not uptight about it.

"Why am I here?"

I glance over to my right where Alicia's standing, looking up with her hand shielding her eyes. She's pale. And that's saying something because Alicia is always tan. Even in the winter. Looking past her, I spot Angelina, who's patting Alicia's shoulder, as if trying to calm her down. For some reason, even after conquering my fear of riding brooms, I'm still scared. In a few minutes, I will be up there. Holding a quaffle.

I haven't done that in ages.

"Oi! We're waiting for you girls!"

All three of our heads whip to the left - and there stands the rest of 'Team Wood', minus Harry, looking bolder than ever. Alicia emmits a small squeak, backing away, with me beside her. Sighing and shaking her head, Angelina walks inbetween us, and loops an arm inbetween each of our own, dragging us forward.

Quidditch. I am going to play quidditch. I can't believed I agreed to come here to play quidditch. And I can't believe Oliver is gullible enough to let Fred and George talk him into making us play quidditch.

"Do I hafta?" whines Alicia, as we stand alongside the boys. She twists her fingers nervously, looking up once more at the high hoops.

"Yes," answers George, raising an eyebrow at her. "Why wouldn't you?"

"Because I'm scared?"

Giving her an odd look, Oliver, Fred and George suddenly burst out laughing, pointing at Alicia. Laughing and pointing at people sure do make them confident.

"Scared?" chockes Fred, clutching his stomach. "You? Alicia Spinnet? Scared of playing quidditch? Former chaser of Gryfinddor team - "

"Okay!" exclaims Alicia looking affronted. "I get it! Shut up."

"When's Harry coming?" Angelina asks, breaking the soon-to-be argument between her husband and best friend. "Harry's never late. In fact, he's always been the most on-time out of all of us."

"He said he's coming around noon," Oliver replies, looking at his watch. "It's just a few minutes past noon - "

"Master Oliver, sir! Harry Potter and Jeffrey Potter here to see you, sir!"

Turning around, I see Slinky trotting into the backyrad, with Harry and his son behind her. Well, Jeffrey's just trying to catch Slinky's ears so...

Slinky makes a low bow - and low as in, her hair scrapes the concrete - and shows herself away. Harry, carrying Jeffrey, walks stiffly towards the group.

Raising an eyebrow at the pair, George asks, "Why?"

Harry gives an uncomfortable shift of the leg, mumbling something under his breath, and going red. Odd. Harry rarely gets red. It clashes horribly with his hair. Well, not really. Everything goes well with the colour black.

"_What?_" George asks, leaning in to hear what on earth Harry's mumbling on about.

"Ginny's gone to some witch's self-defense course."

"Ginny?" Fred questions, now looking interested himself. "_Our _Ginny?"

"Yes," answers Harry, putting down his son. "Our Ginny."

"But why?"

"How should _I_ know?"

"Gosh!" George exclaims, scratching his chin. "Aside from us, I'd say she's the feistiest. What does she need self-defense for? Have you not seen her hexes? And have you _seen_ the size of those bruises on your arm, Harry? My sister is insane!"

"That's what _I_ said!" Harry says, looking a bit relieved that someone seems to have agreed with him.

"Maybe that's why she's going," Alicia comments, raising an eyebrow at Fred, George and Harry.

"_Huh?_" Fred asks, dumbfounded.

Alicia makes an _tsk_ sound. "You keep putting her down! Women do not like to be put down."

"That's true!" Angelina pipes, crossing her arms, glaring at Fred, who had suddenly gone cimson.

"But we don't put her down!" Harry cries, gaping at Alicia. "We praise her!"

"Half the time, you're all saying she's so small and young."

"No we don't - "

"Yes, you do!"

"No - "

"It's a lost cause, Harry," Oliver says, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You can't argue with women. You just don't win. Ever."

Grunting, Harry retreats a step backwards, looking a bit angry. I must agree with Oliver there - no man should ever argue with a woman. They just cannot win.

"So are we ever going to start?" Fred asks, jumping up and down of the spot. "We've been standing here forever!"

"Well, actually," Oliver says, looking at his watch, "we're expecting someone else."

What?

_What?_

I thought this was suppossed to be a 'Team Wood' thing! Aren't all of the original members here? I'm confused...

Looking around oddly, I mentally count everyone present. Let's see... there's me, Angelina, Alicia, Fred, George, Harry, and of course, Oliver. The last time I checked, there are only seven players on a team. And aren't there seven of us? Am I missing something?

"What are you talking about, Oliver?" Harry asks, who's counting us out loud. Well, at least I'm not the only one counting. "All of us are here..."

"Yes, I know. But I just invited someone else over."

Is that even allowed?

Oh yeah. It's his house, his pitch, his gathering. Of course it's allowed.

"So who's - " Alicia asks, but is cut off when she sees Slinky coming back with someone else behind her.

Oh god.

"Master Oliver, sir! Maurie Maravilla here to see you, sir!"

What?

_WHAT?_

We all turn to look at Oliver; Fred and George's mouth agape, Alicia with both eyebrows raised, Harry looking back and forth between Maurie and Oliver, Angelina pursing her lips, and me. I'm just... stunned. Yeah, stunned.

Finally, after literally an hour of silence - of course, I'm just exaggerating, George breaks the silence. "Maurie?"

Smiling serenely at him, Oliver nods his head. "Yes, Maurie Maravilla. She will be here, playing quidditch with us!"

Ignoring the rest of the protests that were emmitting from us, Oliver steps over, giving Maurie a hug.

A hug. He gave her a hug.

A _hug!_

Look at them two. They're discussing something quietly. Why is she so close to him? Closeness should be made illegal. Oh great. Now she's giggling. Giggling from a girl can mean only one thing - she's flirting, or is being flirted with. Nevermind. Closeness shouldn't be made illegal. Flirting should. She is such a bad flirt. Look at her go. Stupid girl.

Why did he bring her here? I'm not going to play with her. Nope. I refuse.

Getting out of their secret conversation, Oliver leads her back over to the rest of us, who still seem a bit shocked. Everyone's looking at each other. Well, we're all looking at each other except for Oliver and Maurie. With her, it's not going to be the same. It just isn't.

"Erm... it's an odd number," states Harry, nodding at Jeffrey. "He wants to play too."

"No, it's even," Angelina says simply. "I'll be sitting out."

Now it's Angelina's turn to be gaped at.

"_Why?_" everyone asks. This is weird. Angelina, another former captain, declining the offer to play quidditch! Is it just me, or is today one of the oddest days?

"I have my reaons," she tells us, smiling secretly. "Really guys - it's not big deal."

"Wait a second!" protests Alicia, shoving George out of the way to face her best friend. "You mean to tell me that I'm going to be up there, while you are safely bound to ground?"

"Yes."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"So who wins if two women argue with each other?" Fred asks, looking at Angelina and Alicia, then over at me.

I shrug. How should I know? If I'm arguing with another female, we usually just take some time and then let the argument go. Unless it's something big. But I've never really had a 'big' argument with one of my friends. I wonder who wins then...

"Can I pick a boom, Uncle Oliver?" Jeffrey asks, running up to Oliver. "Please? I pomise I won't smash it!"

Bewildered, Oliver nods his head, as Jeffrey bounds to the broom shed. Oliver looks over to Harry, saying, "_Boom? Pomise?_"

"Can't pronounce the r's," answers Harry, smiling at Oliver. "Well, words that don't start with an 'r' at least... does that make any sense?"

"No," Fred says simply. "I'm getting a broom myself, if you don't mind."

Following Fred, everyone - except Angelina who goes over to sit on the patio - heads over to the broom shed. What kind of broom am I suppossed to pick? I'm no broom expert. Okay, so I rode a... Nimbus Two Thousand last time? Or was that Two Thousand and One? Maybe it was a Cleansweep. No - it was a Galaxica. Wait a second...

"Here Katie."

Startled, I look up to find Alicia in front of me, holding up a broom.

"Huh?" I ask, confused.

"Take it." She rolls her eyes, shoving the broom into my hands. "Nimubs Two Thousand and One. I figured you wouldn't like the Firebolts - too fast."

I take the broom, and head outside to the pitch with her. Alicia throws a glare and Angelina, who waves back cheerily. In response, Alicia makes a rude gesture with her fingers, in which Angelina responds with making a false grab and putting her hand in her pocket. Frustrated, Alicia grumbles under her breath and walks quickly to the pitch, leaving me behind.

Catching up with Alicia, I stand to wait for the team. Sometimes, being with Alicia makes me fidgety. But that's only when she's angry or distressed. Right now, she's a bit of both. She keeps mumbling something. And I keep hearing things such as _'once I get my hands on that two-timing -_' and_ 'oh that hag'_. Okay, so maybe not fidgety - more like annoyed. But she's really a great person. Seriously. All yelling and grumbling aside.

"So how are we going to do this?" George asks, as everyone else finally catches up with us. "There's an even number..."

"We can have teams!" Jeffrey announces, his face red and bright.

"I want to be captain!" Fred shouts, pumping his chest out.

"But I was going to be captain!" George says, pushing his brother out of the way.

"Maybe you can both be captain," Alicia says mildly, rolling her eyes at the twins.

Glaring at each other, Fred finally gives a curt nod to his brother, and they both depart their ways. Gosh. Can you talk about dramatic?

"I get Oliver!" Fred screams, grabbing Oliver with him before the official pickings even start. "He's on my team!"

George gapes at his brother. "That's not fair! We didn't even start yet!"

"Screw you."

"Why do you always get the best people on your team?"

"Gee, thanks," Harry calls out, crossing his arms. I agree. We're not _that _bad.

Well, not too bad at least.

"Fine!" George cries, throwing his hands up in defeat. "But I get Harry!"

"Well, I get Alicia!" Fred shouts, sticking his tongue at George.

"I want Katie!"

At least I'm not picked last.

"And I want Jeffrey too!" George yells quickly, before Fred can get to it. He throws Fred a smirk, as Jeffrey runs towards our team.

"Fine!" Fred exclaims, narrowing his eyes at us. "Fine! Then I get Maruie."

_Yeah you do._

Turning his back on his brother, George turns to face us, beckoning us for a huddle.

"Okay!" he hisses, pulling us to him. "This is what we'll do; we aim, for Maurie."

"Uh..." Harry stutters, glancing at everyone. "Isn't that a bit mean?"

"How?" I ask, giving Harry an odd look.

He gives me one in return. "We're picking on the 'outsider'."

"Well, we should be."

"Katie, honestly - "

"I just want to win."

"No you don't!" George exclaims, though quietly so only we can hear. "You just don't like her."

"I never said that," I tell him, crossing my arms.

"You just don't want her around dear old Oliver."

_What?_ How on earth did he get that idea?

"Don't be absurd, George," I spit, glaring at him. "I don't care who she hangs out with. Or Oliver, for that matter."

He wriggles his eyebrows at me. Ugh. Where he got that thought, I don't know. _Why _he got that thought, I _want _to know.Gitface.

"So it's all agreed?" George says, bringing his hands together. "We go for Maurie?"

"Is she mean?" Jeffrey squeaks, looking scared. "She might be mean."

"Nonsense. Maurie is harmless. Okay gang, let's kick some ass!"

"_George!_" Harry hisses, immediately lunging for Jeffrey, covering his ears. "Don't curse around the kid!"

George makes an impatient noise and shrugs, marching to the centre of the pitch. Confused, Jeffrey waddles after his uncle, while Harry and I walk side by side. It seems like Fred's team has come to a decision - Fred's got his 'game face' on. I love Fred's game face. It looks hilarious!

"So," Fred says, eyeing George.

"_So,_" George replies, pointing his nose in the air.

Boy oh boy.

"So."

"So."

"So."

"So."

"_So_ - "

"SHUT UP!"

We all turn to look at Alicia, who's red in the face and... quite angry. Everyone takes a step backwards from her, except Jeffrey. Who's laughing at her. Oh no. She's going to blow up on the kid. What is he... three? He _should_ be three... Well, let's just assume the kid's three. Alicia has a very... high temper. And if she explodes on the kid, lord have mercy.

"You look silly, Auntie Alicia!" Jeffrey exclaims, holding his little tummy. Gotta say, it's a cute sight.

Shrinking back, I hold my ears together - and it seems as though everyone else has mimicked me. She's going to go - in three... two... one...

"Well, aren't we going to start yet?" Alicia asks impatiently, tapping her foot. Um... _what?_

"Oh... er... right," George says uncertainly, raising an eyebrow at Alicia. "So..."

"So," Fred says, scratching his head.

"Okay, here's how it is," Oliver says, pushing Fred aside. "One Beater, one Keeper, two Chasers, no Seeker. Everyone alright?"

We all chorus an agreement, and disperse.

"Katie, you're a Chaser," George tells us as we're about to launch. "I think I'll take a stab at the Beater's position."

"George, you've only _ever _taken the Beater's position," Harry says drily, rolling his eyes. "So what's the rest of us doing?"

"Well, Harry, I was thinking of putting you as a Keeper, and Jeffrey as the other Chaser."

I look uncertainly at George. "Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Do what?" he asks, giving me a weird look. "I'm absolutely sure that Harry would make a wonderful Keeper."

"I meant Jeffrey."

"Oh, don't worry about Jeffrey. He's as good as the pros out there. Throw him anything, and he can catch it."

"I can!" Jeffrey announces with pride, tugging on my sleeve. "I can, Auntie Katie!"

Still doubtful, I nod curtly, and we kick off on our brooms. Oh shit! Maybe I'm not ready to do the one-handed kick off just yet. Man, I used to be able to! I'm so mad. Look at Jeffrey! Why can he do flips and spins like that? What _is_ this? He's fucking _three!_ This is a conspiracy!

At the sound of Oliver's whistle, Alicia and I speed off, in chase of the quaffle. Damn she's fast! When did she get so fast? Oh yeah... everyone's been keeping up with their quidditch skills except me.

Alicia reaches the quaffle first, and zooms off in direction of our goal post. Oh no she doesn't.

"Block her, Jeffrey!" I call out, trying hard to catch up with Alicia. And apparantly, failing.

And also, apparantly, George was right; Jeffrey really _can_ play quite well. He's managed to block Alicia, going up to her suddenly, making her come to a screeching halt, therefore dropping the quaffle. And boy can that kid make a catch. Oh crap! He's headed towards me. Okay, fly, kiddo. Fly! To Oliver, where he's blocking the goal.

"Catch, Auntie Katie!" Jeffrey exclaims, as he launches the quaffle at me.

Catch it, catch it, catch it, oh please let me catch it - FUCK YEAH! I caught it!

"SHOOT!" George hollers from the other end. "SHOOT THE BALL! SHOOT THE DAMN BALL!"

"GEORGE! _SHUT UP!_" I hear Harry yell. "STOP SWEARING!"

"STOP BEING SUCH A PUSSY, HARRY!"

Ignoring the feud behind me, I'm about to take a stab at shooting until a wave of brown hair gets in my face.

And behold. Tis Maurie.

"Hi Katie!" she says brightly, hovering around me. As if her presence isn't annoying enough.

"Hello," I say dully, trying hard to get away from her. But no - she has to tail me. Great.

I glance around to find Jeffrey, and he's a bit behind me, making the slightest motions for me to pass. Smart kid. I think I'm going to like him. Alright, so I'm going to throw it to Jeffrey... right now -

"Got it!" Maurie squeals with delight, as she literally grabs the quaffle out of my hands. Gosh, someone needs to teach this girl some manners. Even _I_, a quidditch player of seven years, have never _grabbed _the quaffle _directly _out of someone else's hands. Honest!

While I'm pondering, Maurie somehow manages to escape, in persue of the golapost. I can hear Fred screaming bloody murder in the background. Alicia's hovering near George. And Oliver's whooping. So. If she wants to play dirty, fine by me.

Making a full on turn, I speed my way to Maurie, who's all smiles. Oh sure, she might be grinning now, but just you wait! With a nasty smile on my face, I shove her with my shoulder.

"_Hey!_" she cries, the quaffle fumbling. Now, I _may _play dirty, but I still go by the rules, _unlike _her. Shoving is just a given in the game, is it not?

Without even taking the effort to reply, I grab the quaffle that had dropped out of her hands.

"DAMN RIGHT, GIRL!" George screams, aiming a bludger at Maurie. "NOW SHOOT THAT FUCKING QUAFFLE!"

"SHUT UP!" Harry yells, immediately swooping up to Jeffrey, covering his ears. "GINNY'S GOING TO MURDER ME IF HER SON LEARNS THIS STUFF!"

"STOP BEING SUCH A LOSER AND GET BACK TO YOUR POST!"

"QUIT IT, GEORGE!"

"OH, JUST STUFF IT!"

_Oi..._

By this time, I'm already metres away from Oliver, laughing at George and Harry's 'heated' argument. Jeffrey seems as normal as possible. I wonder what it's like having the Weasley twins as your uncles. Must be harsh.

"You're really gonna shoot it, aren't you?"

I pull myself back to reality, and there's Oliver, with his 'oh-I'm-too-good-for-you-and-you-know-it-smile' on. I'd be happy just to smash it on his beautiful face.

"Yes," I reply, flying in hoops around him.

He follows my every circle. "You can't get it past me."

"Wouldn't know if I didn't try."

"Just give it up, Katie, you're not - "

And I did.

I so did.

Of course, he wasn't really paying attention, but what the hey - I shot it! Past Oliver Wood! The first Keeper of the Wimbourne Wasps!

_Me!_

"Too bad, Oliver," I say mockingly, flying up to him and patting his head. "Maybe next time."

He cocks an eyebrow, grinning at me. "Not maybe. I will."

Scoffing, I fly back, chasing after Alicia, who's in possession of the quaffle. How the hell did the quaffle get so far so quickly? Maybe I should start paying some more attention... you know, there was this one time - okay fine, many times - in which my mother told me I have the saddest attention span. Of course, I do not believe her, but this situation is actually proving her quite right, and I hate it when she's right -

"AUNTIE KATIE, CATCH!"

_What the hell?_

OH SHIT!

Catching myself, I dive to catch the quaffle. See what I mean? I don't even know how I got the possession back! When did Jeffrey get it? And how did he actually manage to take the quaffle away?

"_No!_" I hear a squeak to my right. I whip my head around to see Maurie. Once and again.

"_Give it to me!_" she cries, trying to snatch it. And she's clawing me! If you're going to play quidditch, the least you can fucking do is cut your damn nails!

I hiss at her, giving her the most bitchiest look I could muster on a broom. She seems to shrink back, but seconds later, she's clawing at me again.

"Don't _scratch_ me!" I exclaim, elbowing her in the arm.

"I _wasn't _scratching you!" she retorts, trying to overtake me.

"Oh so what are these?" I say, throwing out one of my arms. It hits her in the face.

"FOUL!" Fred shouts, zooming above us. "FOUL ON MY CHASER! FOUL!"

"IT WAS NOT A FOUL!" I hear George scream at the top of his lungs. "DON'T PENALIZE MY CHASER FOR NOTHING!"

"IT WAS A FOUL!"

"NO, IT WASN'T!"

"SHUT UP!" Harry yells, coming over to us. "SHUT UP, SHUT UP, _AND_ SHUT UP!"

Who knew a quidditch game could be this.. aggravating?

Harry looks over to Oliver. "You were within eyesight of it. What happened?"

The colour drains from Oliver's face, as he is suddenly pulled into the argument. He looks at Harry, then at me, and then at Maurie.

"Uh..." he stutters, looking back and forth from me and Maurie. He finally looks over at me, giving me an apologetic look. I know what that means. "Well, Katie's arm _did _hit Maurie in the face..."

"FOUL!" Fred cries, throwing his hands in a frenzy. "I KNEW IT!"

I can hear George screaming vehemently from the distance. And Jeffrey's taking in every word.

I knew it. I knew he'd choose her. Aside from the fact that she's on his team, I knew he'd pick her. Rolling my eyes, I chuck the quaffle roughly at Maurie, as it hits her in the stomach. She cries out in pain, which causes Fred to scream 'foul' in my face again.

I don't need this. Making a full turn, I fly back to my side, where Alicia ctaches up with me.

"What was that?"

"_Nothing._"

She gives me a look, and flies back to her position. And now that she's gone, George flies up to me.

"What are you doing?" he screams, grabbing me by the shoulders. "We're losing! We're _losing!_"

"Honestly, George. It's just a game," I say, shaking him off me. "And it's not even official! What are you so worried about?"

"I have to win against Fred!"

"Why?"

"No reason."

I narrow my eyes at him. Okay, Fred and George are competitive. They've always been competitive. But not like this. I wonder what's up with George.

"Heads up, Katie," he says, raising an eyebrow at me. "Don't hit people!"

As if! It's not _my_ fault that my arm accidentally hit her in the face! What about those scratches on my arms? They're bleeding! _Bleeding_, I tell you! Why doesn't _she _get a foul? I'll tell you why! Because she's Maurie. Everyone loves Maurie.

I give a long, loud sigh, and dash away from the goal posts. Harry resumes his place, as Alicia takes the 'penalty'. You know, even if I were to hit her on purpose, it wouldn't hurt _that _much. I mean, come _on!_ My arm isn't _that _bony! Besides, she really should just learn to suck it in.

As I'm thinking, Alicia manages to get a goal, making us even in score. Okay, I really need to start paying attention to this game. Really.

"Oi! Alicia!" George calls, as he aims a bludger at her. "You won't be so lucky next time!"

"As if, George!" she calls back, sticking her tongue out. "You underestimate my scoring powers!"

"What happened to being all scared of playing?"

"You bring the monster out of me!"

I look at George, who's got this wicked grin on his face, and Alicia, who's grinning broadly, and blushing a bit. Odd... doesn't Alicia have a boyfriend?

"_George!_" Fred screams from the other side of the pitch. "_Stop flirting with my Chaser!_"

At this, Alicia seems to have gotten even brighter, though her smile didn't waver.

George, on the otherhand, has a lightness upon his face. He shrugs. "Can't help it if I get some feedback!"

_!smack!_

_"FUCK!"_

_"OI!"_

_"NO SWEARING!"_

_"RIGHT ON!"_

_"FRED! WHAT THE HELL!"_

_"AUNTIE KATIE!"_

_"OH - MY - GOD!"_

_"YOU _KILLED_ HER!"_

_"Oh dear..."_

And that's what I've heard. I'm, of course, the one who said 'fuck'. Something had hit me on the side of my head, and apparatnly, I'm on something quite soft. Not grass. Grass is prickly. I don't know. At the moment, my eyes are closed. I do know that Harry was the one who said 'no swearing', and that Jeffrey called out 'Auntie Katie'. But that's really about it.

"Katie! Can you hear me?"

No shit I can.

"_Katie! Wake up, Katie!_"

No, it's alright.

I feel a light breeze on my face. Maybe I should get hurt more often. It's really nice to have someone fan you.

"I'm going to _kill_ you, Fred."

So, Fred's the one who did it. Great.

"_What!_ It's part of the _game!_"

"_Killing_ someone isn't!"

"Oh, _please!_ She's not dead."

"For all _we_ know, she could be."

This is nice. People arguing over me.

"Can you not see her chest moving up and down? It's called the motions of exhaling and inhaling. Also known as _breathing!_"

"Oh, just shut _up!_ She's _dying!_"

"No need to be so dramatic. I'll prove it to you that she's alive!"

"Fred - _no _- !"

As I'm enjoying this nice conversation, I feel my whole entire being shake. Harshly. Well, this isn't cool. Oh shit! I can't breathe!

"Fred, _stop it!_ She's _choking!_"

"See? I told you she's alive. _Idiot._"

I continue to chock, as the hands release my shoulder, and there's a hard thumping upon my back. Not cool.

"Stop - it!" I choke, bending forwards to wretch. "_Stop!_"

And out of nowhere, there's a jet of water being shot at my face. What did I do to deserve this?

"Oh, like _that_ helps, Fred. Yep, just issue some water into her nostrils - that'll stop the chocking."

The jet of water stops, and my focus begins to clear. Well, sorta. I see eight figures standing in my face. Of course, it's all a bit blurry due to the water on my face and eyelashes. But eight figures still.

"Are you alright?"

Rubbing the water out of my eyes, I look to my right, where Angelina is. Odd, when did Angelina decide to join us in the air?

"Sorry about that, Katie," says a voice behind Angelina, who turns out to be Fred. I give him an angry glare, which makes him gulp and move back behind his wife.

"Don't worry, Katie," George says, who's at my left. "At least we know you're alive. Oliver thought you were actually dead."

"Yeah, he did," Fred chips in, emerging once more from behind Angelina. "Luckily, I shook you. Proved you're alright all along."

"Alright?" I cry in dismay, spitting out some water. "_Alright?_ You think _this_ is alright?"

"Well, I - "

"I get penalized for something I didn't do, and I have blood-encrusted arms! I get hit in the head by whatever the fuck that was - "

"_No swearing!_" Harry hisses at me, covering Jeffrey's ears again.

"Oh, shut up you!" I snap at him, and return my glare to Fred. "I get knocked out for Merlin knows _how_ long! I get shaken up like some sort of... thing in a blender - "

"What's a blender?" asks George, who seems genuinely piqued.

I growl at him. "Never you mind. I couldn't breathe for the longest time, and then, to top it all off, I get water up my nose!"

"I was just trying to help," Fred says weakly, peeking out from behind Angelina's shoulder. "Honestly."

Breathing heavily, I roll my eyes, slamming myself back onto whatever it is that I'm on. My arms hurt. What with the water-infected wounds, they're burning. There's still water up my nose. I'm still dizzy from be shaken.

"So..." Alicia says, standing up, looking uneasy. "I guess we'll call it a day."

What? Just because of me? Oh, come _on!_ I'm not _that_ weak!

"Nonsense!" I exclaim, standing up quickly. Well, that wasn't the brightest of ideas. I hold out my hands to balance myself from the sudden light-headedness. "Don't cancel it just because of me! I can still play!"

"Katie, don't be ridiculous - "

"I'm NOT being ridiculous! We're going to continue to play!"

I look around at everyone, seeing if they dared to defy me. Alicia seems taken aback. Fred's still behind Angelina, who's looking a bit grim. Harry smiling at me, and Jeffrey, who's ears are still covered by his father's hands, looks around confused. Maurie looks a bit guilty - good stuff - and George isn't even looking at me, but at Alicia. And Oliver's got this weird face on him. I don't know what it is - but I don't care. Nope.

"Er... should we... continue?" Harry asks uncertainly, glancing around at us.

"Yes, we should!" I announced, walking a bit stiffly, grabbing my broom. "I'm okay! Really!"

"Sure you are, Katie," George says, as he follows me, in direction of our side. "Sure you are."

"Oh, George! You're here!" I say, looking at him, pleased.

"Well, I _am_ the captain of the team..."

"Do me a favour, will you, George?"

"I guess?"

"Trade spots with me."

He looks at me as if I've lost my mind. "In case you've forgotten, I'm a male. I don't really think the transition'd work."

"_No!_" I cry, hitting him on the head. "I meant trade palces with me in the game! As in, you be Chaser, I be Beater."

"Well, I'm not too sure you're a good Bea - _aaaugh!_"

At the moment, I had seized his arm and twisted it at an odd angle. He yanks away from me, complaining about a twisted arm and how'd he even be able to play at all.

"Don't be such a pussy, George," I tell him, grabbing the bat away from him.

He flips me off, and flies over to Jeffrey. I take my place a few metres away from Harry.

"I hate playing Keeper," Harry complains, as he flies around the posts. "It's too dull. And too painful."

I shrug, waving the bat in the air. This is going to be good. Oh so good. Not only will I have my vengeance on Fred, but also on Maurie. And maybe even a few whacks at Oliver if I'm lucky. And for some reason, I feel extremely lucky.

"Charge!" George bellows, as Jeffrey makes a catch for the quaffle, soaring away into the distance.

Righto. Let's see how this is suppossed to work. I never liked Beating. It seems like so much hard work. I mean, if you don't have a strong arm, who knows where the bludger's gonna go, right? For all I know, it might just break me. Or the bat. Whichever.

"Heads up, Katie!" Harry warns from behind me. I look up to see the bludger coming right at me.

Okay, the moment of truth. Make a quick scan... who do you want to attack right now? Damn! Maurie's too far. And Oliver of course, is too far... Alicia. Yeah... she's coming right at me. Should I hit her? Maybe... Well, no. She's my friend, isn't she?

OH CRAP!

I hear something smack against my bat, and a weird sensation throughout my right arm. Finally, peeling my eyes open, I see the bludger going in the opposite direction, throwing Alicia off course, making her drop the quaffle.

Whoa.

So this is how it feels. So this is the feeling of adrenaline that Fred and George always talked about when we discussed quidditch back then. This is the hard core lust of aiming for a certain person, and putting all your anger out on them by hitting them with a big gigantic concrete ball. This is the feeling of inflicting pain - _guilt free!_ Heeeheee.

"Nice," Harry whistles, as George steals the quaffle from Alicia, tapping her on the right shoulder, and zooming away from her left. Funny sight, I must say. She gives a frustrated look over at me. Shrugging, I laugh inwardly at my triumph.

One down, three to go.

"I feel so alive!" I call out to Harry, smiling oh so brightly. "I _love_ playing Beater!"

He gives me a freaked out look, making me blush, and I turn back to the game. Well, I _do_ feel alive. And so would you, if you've just expirienced how good this feels. And this was just aiming at Alicia, who wasn't even intended to be aimed at. Think of how wonderfully satisfying those other three will be!

And so the games goes on. You know, George makes quite a good Chaser. I mean, he's managed to pull all these stunts to get the quaffle away from the other team. Well, just Alicia. And Jeffrey - pretty brilliant for a three-year-old. I, on the otherhand, have been whipping bludgers at anything - I don't even know who I'm aiming at anymore! And it doesn't matter, because it still feels excellent.

Oh. Here comes Maurie.

And here comes my chance.

_Tsk!_ Where's the friggin bludger when you friggin need it? Oh, there it is.

Gripping the bat, I fully swing on the bludger, aiming squarely at Maurie. And how true my bludger hits. I hear her squeal, and she ducks from the bludger. Oh dear. She shouldn't have done that; never duck on a broom. It just causes distress.

And distress did it cause for dear Maurie. Look at her - she's literally falling off her broom. Well, she's sort of hanging there. So she's grabbing onto the broom with both hands, while the rest of her dangles. Gosh, I sure do love watching her suffer.

That didn't sound too evil, did it? Because I'm not that mean. Maybe I should go help her.

_Maybe._

Oh. No need for that I guess. There goes Oliver. Always there to save the fricken day. I watch him as he plucks Maurie from the air, and puts her back onto her broom. Look at her face. It's all...ooey. You know, the kind of ooey that you get when you're relieved, nervous, scared, relieved and utterly in love. God.

"Katie!" Oliver calls from across the pitch.

I'm not going to answer him.

"Katie!"

Looking around the scenery, I pretend that I can't hear him. I can see a smile plastered on Harry's face, as he shakes his head at me.

"Katie."

Oh damn. He's right in front of me. Turn around. Turn around! Face the other way! You can't answer him if you don't face him.

"_Katie!_ Have you gone deaf?" Oliver says, as he flies over to my otherside. Great. Now I can't use the 'head-turn' as an excuse.

Without answering, I look at him haughtily, with a cocked up brow.

"What was _that?_" he asks, his arms spread out wide.

"What was what?" I ask in return, crossing my arms.

"You can't just... I dunno, _hit_ people?" he exclaims, motioning at Maurie, who still has that ooey face.

"_What?_" I ask in disbelief. "I'm plahing position of Beater, Oliver! Hitting people is what you're suppossed to do! You should know that, you're the professional here."

His eyes widen at me. "You can't aim for people purposely!"

What is this guy getting at? Isn't the point of playing Beater to aim for someone on purpose? So that they can win?

"_What!_" I exclaim, holding up my hands. "You're _suppossed_ to aim for someone purposely you idiot!"

Yeah, that's right. I called him an idiot. Oh no. He's getting angry. I'm so scared.

And once again, that was sarcasm.

"Did you just call me an idiot?" he asks calmly, but breathing heavily.

"Yeah, I did!" I say, tilting my head to the side. "What are you going to do about it?"

He makes a jerky movement, as if he wants to strangle me. But then he catches himself, and makes a fist out of each hand. Yeah, that's right. You hit me, I report you. And your girlfriend too, for permanently scarring my beautiful arms.

"You know," he says, looking up at me with the most contorted face I've seen him with,. "You know - "

"Oh, yes, I sure know," I say tonelessly, rolling my eyes. I sure have been doing that quite a lot today.

"You have some serious issues, Katie."

I do not have issues! I don't! I'm perfectly normal!

I narrow my eyes at him. I'm not going to let him win this. "Oh? And what are they?"

"I'm not going to waste my time discussing your problems," he retorts, now his turn to roll his eyes.

"Then what are you trying to get at, Oliver?" I hiss, so that only we can hear our conversation.

He doesn't answer. All he's doing is looking me hard in the eye.

"Well?" I demand, furrowing my brows.

"Look, you can't just - "

"Can't just _what_, Oliver? Can't just aim at people? It's part of the _game!_ Get a fucking grip!"

"I know what you're trying to do - "

"Oh really? What am I trying to do?"

"You're trying to aim at Maurie."

"Well said, Captain Obvious! But in case you haven't noticed, she _is _on the opposing team!"

He rubs his head in frustration, mumbling something under his breath.

"Sorry, can't hear you," I say sarcastically, glaring at him.

"God, Katie, you know, you really need to loosen up!" he says, inhaling deeply. "You can't - "

"I can, and I _will!_ Why do you even care what I do?"

"I just - "

"You just what?"

"I just - I want - I don't know!" he stuttuers, looking away.

"Yeah, because I sure know what the bloody hell that means."

"Why are you so difficult?" he asks, not looking at me.

Am I suppossed to answer that?

"I don't understand you," he says, shaking his head at me. "I really don't."

"I never asked you to," I spit, looking away from him.

"Sometimes, you can be the biggest - "

"The biggest what, Oliver? What is it that you're trying to imply? Are you mad at me for playing the game _correctly?_ Or are you mad at me because I hit your precious Maurie?"

"You can be the biggest bitch. And I cross out 'sometimes'. Because lately, it's been_ all_ the time."

I look at him, my mouth semi-open, my eyes slowly getting thinner.

That sick asshole.

"Oh, and by the way," he says over his shoulder, as he flies away on his broom. "I _am_ mad that you've hit 'my precious Maurie'."

This guy is unbelievable.

I'm not going to take this. No, I'm not. As of now, I really don't give a shit if I turn out to be the bad guy. Summoning up all my strength, I chuck the bat at him. And as Lady Luck would have it, it hits him on the arm. Hey - it's pretty good, since he's flying and everything. And what did I say? I'd be lucky if I could get a hit at him. And now I have.

And you know what else? I don't need to ber here. Here, with all these people that blame me for nothing. I shouldn't have gotten the penalty. My arms are scratched. I shouldn't be yelled at for playing the game by the rules. And I don't need to take shit from any guy who sees me as a bitch.

Making a turn, I fly swiftly to the ground, throwing the broom aside once I've landed. Oh great. Now Angelina's coming.

"Katie, what on earth - "

"_Save it,_" I tell her, as she freezes on the spot.

I yank open the door, finding my way out of his wretched house. Why does his house have to be this huge? It's like a stupid maze! How do you expect to have guests over, if they're going to get lost within half a minute?

"Miss Katie!"

_What was that?_

I quickly turn around to see Slinky, in the middle of the hallway. She looks surprised, but glad to see me. Well, at least someone is.

"Slinky, could you show me the way out?" I ask courteously, walking up to her.

She looks confused. "But Miss! All guests is outside!"

No, really.

"Yes, Slinky. But I need to go now. Would you mind showing me out?"

"Right away, Miss!"

- - - - - - - -

What to do now?

I've been here at Diagon for two hours. I guess it's a good thing that Oliver literally lives beside the place. And it's a good thing that Diagon always has crowds. This way, I can wander around, getting lost inside crowds so people can't follow me. And so I can pretend I can't hear them.

Like when I saw Angelina and Alicia about forty minutes ago. Oh well. I'll talk to them later. I don't feel like talking much.

At the moment, I'm not in a crowd. Instead, I'm sitting on the ledge of a stone wall. Eating ice cream. Alone. Pathetic, isn't it? I know.

"Katie!"

Can't a girl get some friggin peace anywhere?

Looking up annoyed, I see Nasuada, her arms loaded with shopping. Well, at least one of us had a good day.

"Hey Nasuada," I say with little enthusiasm.

"She comes to stand in front of me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Oh," she says simply, looking around at her surroundings.

"Something wrong with you?" I ask her in return, glancing up at her, the sun fully in my eyes.

"No. Just trying to enjoy summer as much as possible before tomorrow."

"Why? What's tomorrow?"

She gives me a funny look. "Are you serious?"

"Okay, what's tomorrow?"

"It's... well, it's the department party," she says slowly, her eyebrow raised at me.

Department party? What department party -

OH SHIT.

"Let me guess - you forgot," she laughs good-naturedly.

I hate the department parties. Every single year, smack in the middle of our wonderful vacation, we always have to report to the damn department. Why does Ludo Bagman have to be so... _festive?_ So _jolly?_ So Father Christmas-like that it's sickening? Of course, he's not kind like Father Christmas, but boisterous, but still. Why do we have to go? Why does every single employee have to attend? Why does it have to be in the middle our vacation?

"So I was thinking about getting Mr Bagman something," Nasuada says absently, her face furrowed with concentration.

Oh, and every year, the damn bastard expects us to get something for him.

"I was thinking about that box of chocolate at Honeydukes..."

Although Nasuada isn't part of our department, she still goes. Why? Because her mother and Bagman go way back. And because Bagman likes her. Well, only because Bagman likes her mother, but still. At least he knows her name.

"I think I'll go with you," I tell her, hauling myself up from my comfortable seat on the ledge.

Maybe shopping will keep my mind off of today's... mishaps.

* * *

i know you're thinking this chapter was a drag, but really - it helps the relationship... mold? i dont know. whatever the word is, the relationship is happening here! and you know what? i have pretty long chapters. some people make you think they have long chapters, but then half of it is filled with author notes. whatever. i'm just saying.

anyway, since i leave you guys such long, hard-worked chapters, why dont you leave me some long reviews? i absolutely live for long reviews! i love them! (seriously.) so please, give me some super big long feedback!


	9. Then He Came Along

**a/n:** oh my gosh - did i update _again?_ yeah i did! thanks for the reviews. at first, i thought it was gonna be a dud, since i only had 2 with 66 hits. i was like 'yoooooo wtf!' but thank goodness, you _wonderful _people came through!

and enjoy this chapter. sorry it's not the usual 'long stuff' i have going on for the past few chapters. i promise, next time!

* * *

I am so bored.

And it's only been two hours. Meaning, I have another two to go before I can leave. That way, it won't seem impolite of me, since I'm an employee here and all.

Nasuada's having the time of her life. But that's probably because Bagman's introducing her to every important person in the building. And here I am, working for this guy, being shunned to the corner. Well, to my own cubicle at the least. Not that I want to go out and socialize. If I do, Marlene's going to start harassing me about Gobstones. She's thirty-eight, and still plays Gobstones. I don't have anythying against Gobstone. But seriously - the woman is thirty-eight!

I can hear Nasuada laughing in the distance. And Bagman, going on about how he loves every single one of his workers. Psh. Yeah right. He doesn't even know I exist. And I helped clear his name with the goblins!

Maybe I should stop complaining. Yesterday night, after coming home from shopping with Nasuada, Angelina decided to Floo into my apartment. Telling me that my blow to Oliver was pretty bad. And that he's got this big bruise on his elbow. And that it's going to affect his quidditch Keeping. Gosh, are these people thick. It's like they're muggles! Hello, ever heard of something called _magic?_ Exactly. Just charm it off buddy. Or I don't know, use some of that bruise paste Fred and George sell at their shop. I'm emotionally bruised. And believe me, that hurts much worse.

I don't know why I feel like this. And I don't know why I keep thinking about it. I haven't stopped. I have been thinking about it all afternoon yesterday, and well into the evening. And even during night, I couldn't sleep. Why does this bother me so much? Yeah, sure I don't like Maurie. It's not that I hate her or anything. I've hated a few people. It's not as if I lost sleep over them. Why this situation?

I'm freaked out. Seriously. And for some reason, Oliver's face keeps popping into my head. And it shouldn't be! Everytime it happens, he's wearing his annoying little smirk. And I want to punch it. But if I do make a punch, I'll just be sending a blow to my own head, which wouldn't be very wise. I don't know why I keep thinking about him. I mean, it's not as if I like him.

Right?

Of course I'm right. I'm always right.

Anyway, Angelina says I complain too much. Maybe I do. But I can't help it!

"Bell, be a dear and fetch me a cup of coffee?"

I give a jerk, as my heart suddenly jumps three beats. God! I look up annoyed, to see Jason there, leaning against my cubicle.

"What?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.

"I want some coffee," he says simply, tapping his fingers together. "I'm feeling a bit thirsty."

"Alright. So go get some coffee," I tell him, looking back down to the newspaper. What is wrong with this guy?

"Oh, but I was thinking you could get it, Bell."

Looking up from my paper, I give him a disbelieving look. "_Excuse_ me?"

"Get me some coffee, if you please," he replies with a toothy smile.

"No, I _don't_ please."

"Don't be such a spoil sport."

"Get your own coffee, Jameson. It's not that hard."

"Oh, I think it is. Why don't you come show me how?"

"No, because if I do, I would end up getting it for you. Now please, go away."

"But I want some coffee."

I grab my head in frustration. "Jameson, what do you want?"

"Coffee."

"Then go get some!"

"But I don't want to."

"Then don't!"

"But I'm thirsty!"

Oh my _god._

"This can go on for hours," I sigh, rubbing my forehead. "Why are you bothering me?"

"I just wanted some coffee," he shurgs, rubbing his palms together. "I don't want to ruin my hands."

I give him a look. "Jameson, could you _be_ any more gay?"

He stares at me as if I had just said the grossest thing in the entire world. "As _if!_" he exclaims, turning on his heels and stomping away.

So he _could_ be more gay.

Like I would go get his cup of coffee. He could do it himself! Gosh, I'm not a slave or anything... even if people do treat me a bit like one.

Oh well... might as well work since I'm... at work. Besides, if I do some now, I might be able to laze about a few more days when I come back, right? All you hafta do is read those reports. And then analyze them. And then write a report on them. So basically, my job is writing reports on reports. Fantastic stuff.

What is this stuff? _'No dragon waste shall be thrown during Quidditch Matches'_? Who on earth throws dragon waste during quidditch games? Is that even allowed? Oh wait, the report says no. Oh whatever. Stupid reports. Half of this crap makes absolutely no sense! At least I'm getting paid for doing this. I swear... I knew I should've got into Ancient Runes! Man, I studied so hard for that! And here I am; literally a nothing. I'm a _nothing!_

"Katie! What are doing?"

Work. I'm doing work.

"Hello! Katie!"

"Hello, Nasuada," I say tonelessly, not bothering to look up.

"What are you doing?" she asks again, taking a seat opposite from me, in my guest chair.

"Just finishing off a couple of things," I say absent-mindedly, taking a quill out from a drawer. Let's see... how should I write this? _'Although dragon waste is good to the enviroment if it is converted to dragon manure, it does the public no good when thrown across the pitch during quiddtch'_?

"Katie, it's _summer!_" she cries, making a grab for my quill, but misses, as I'm too quick for her. "Come on, Katie! Have some _fun!_ Join the festivites!"

"No thank you," I sigh, resting my chin on my hand, looking down at my report.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Of course I am."

"No, you aren't."

Of course I'm not. I have a report to write. And I don't fit into the party anyway. I'm only here because I have to give face. So what if I'm anti-social?

Alright. I think I should add _'The stench of dragon waste lingers for quite a while, so the idea of throwing it around during quidditch wouldn't be a benefit for both players and fans'._ Does that sound good? Maybe I should put... no, that wouldn't be the greatest...

"... and then he says, _'you're quite the pretty one, aren't you'_..."

How's this for the ending;_ 'In conclusion, dragon dung should be kept apart from quidditch games, only to be present as manure for the grass underneath the pitch. Players and their team wouldn't appreciate the smell, nor would the general public. Those who decide to throw the waste shall be reported to the Ministry of Magic, given an appropriate punishment.'_? Oh whatever. At least now I'm finished a report. Thank goodness.

"So what do you think?"

"What?" I ask confused, looking up to see Nasuada. Wow. She's still here. And I didn't even notice her.

"I said, what do you think?" she repeats, raising an eyebrow at me.

What is this girl talking about? What do I think? About what? I think my job is an absolute waste of my time, but neccessary in order for me to make a living. I think this party sucks ass because it's boring, pointless, and on the day after the midpoint of my summer vacation. I think Alicia's scared of me, as well as everyone else yesterday, except Angelina. I think Fred needs some mental help.

So how shall I answer this question?

"I think it's a great idea!" I announce enthusiastically, so she wouldn't think I didn't know what she's talking about.

She gives me a skeptical look, finally saying, "_Great!_ Come on, let's go!"

"Go where?" I ask suspiciously, narrowing my eyes at her.

"To join the party. Weren't you listening?"

"Nope."

"Well, too bad for you. You've already agreed! Let's go."

Ravenclaws are smart. I think she knew I wasn't paying any attention to her, therefore leading me to the outskirts of my cubicle. Sneaky, they are. Sometimes even more cunning than the Slytherins. Very smart they are, Ravenclaw. A little _too_ smart...

- - - - - - - - - -

"_Get back here!_"

Sighing, I allow her to grab my elbow and drag me back.

Let's just say, it's been happening every ten minutes or so for the past hour. I did go with Nasuada back into the party. And I did try to join in the festivities. But so far, all I've done is stand here while being shunned away, drinking the oh-so-flat champagne. I got through six glasses in the first ten minutes. Merlin knows how many I've consumed in the past hour!

Ever since my arrival at this place with Nasuada, Bagman has already scooped her up. But Nasuada, not the being the lenient person she usually is, decided to drag me. And so far, no one has noticed me. No one has even talked to me. And every time I try to run away, Nasuada always sees me doing so, and pulls me back.

So what now? There's Bagman, introducing Nasuada to every important person. There's Jameson, sipping coffee, having a nice chat with one of the guys on our floor. There's Boister, talking with Hester. Marlene and a bunch of much younger wizards and witches, having some sort of Gobstones match... oh, and me. Just standing here, drinking.

"Have you met Kahil Salut, Nasuada? He's the manager of the Wimbourne Wasps."

Wow. She even gets to meet the manager of the Wasps.

"Oh, and here's the coach, Jet Bowman."

The coach. She gets to meet the _coach._

"And this is Philippe Furaux, ex-captain. We played together for about eight years."

I remember Philippe Furaux. Someone told me about him...

"This is Oliver Wood. Have you met him? I'm sure you were at school with him."

And she gets to meet Oliver Wood! The rising star! It's not fair! _She_ gets to know everyone, and _I'm_ being pushed aside! What is this? It's a crime! _I_ know more about quidditch than she _ever_ will! I _play_ quidditch! She_ hates_ quidditch! And here she is, meeting with Oliver Wood -

What?

Did Bagman just say _'Oliver Wood'_?

_The_ Oliver Wood? From Hogwarts? The former Gryffindor captain? _My_ Oliver Wood?

Well, this isn't too cool.

Maybe it's not him. I mean, Wood is quite a common name, isn't it? And so is Oliver. I once met two Samantha Burtons. And they didn't even know each other. Fascinating it was. So this can't be Oliver. Don't be ridiculous, Katie. Sure, Bagman may be talking about the Wimbourne Wasps. And sure, he may be introducing the team to her, but surely, this can't be Oliver.

Slowly - and subtley - I make a slow turn around. Okay, there's Bagman and Nasuada. And two men I don't know, whom I assume are the coach and manager. And some fat guy around Bagman's age, probably Furaux.

And Oliver.

Damn.

Why is it that lately, everywhere I go, Oliver seems to be there also? Is it fate? No! It's not fate. Don't be silly. There is no such thing as fate. Fate doesn't exist. It is simply coincidence. Yeah, coincidence. _Fate._ What on _earth_ was I thinking?

Turning around, I quickly make my way through the crowd. At least Nasauda didn't notice me going away. No, she was too busy ogling Oliver. Like every other female in Britain. And thankfully, he didn't notice me either. If he did... well, let's just say the fireworks would start working.

Not _those_ fireworks! I'm not in _love_ with him.

I'm _not._

I squeeze myself through the crowds, ducking, tip-toeing, and doing spins just to avoid bumping into anyone. When did this place get so crowded? I don't remember these parties being so... filled. Ever.

I have only one more hour to go before I can finally leave. And once I leave, I'm going to go home, and drown myself in cake. In the tub with bubbles. And some nice music. And then, once again, the world will be right -

_Ow._

"Oh! I'm so sorry! Are you alright?"

Of course I'm not alright. I just got knocked over, stabling myself on a wall.

"Miss? Are you okay?"

"Yes!" I exclaim savagely, pushing myself off from the wall. At least my shoes aren't ruined...

"Did I ruin your shoes? I swear, I'll get you a new pair!"

Peering closely at my shoes, I sigh, saying, "No, that's quite alright. They're really just shoes..."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," I say, finally looking up from my shoes...

_Wow._

He is so pretty. And so tall. And so... _pretty._

"Are you okay?" he asks, leaning into me.

Snapping out of my trance, I exclaim, "Fine! Fine, just... fine!"

"I'm so sorry about that. I wasn't paying any attention to what I was doing. I really didn't mean to knock you over!"

"That's alright," I tell him, smiling. "I'm fine. You're fine. We're all fine."

"If you say so," he chuckles, extending a hand. "I'm Alan. Alan Bellesque."

"Katie Bell," I reply, taking his hand. Such a nice hand. Not too big. A bit rough, but not too rough. Perfect.

"Katie? Is that short for anything?"

"No, it's just Katie. Just Katie."

He smiles at me. A big bright smile. "Well, Just Katie, where do you work?"

"Here," I say, my face now a bit confused. "I wouldn't really be here if I didnt."

You know, now that I think of it, his name sounds a bit familiar. And I don't know why. I haven't seen him here before or anything... but something about his name really irks me. And he looks like someone I know too. Odd, isn't it.

"What are you in?" he asks, sipping from a cup.

"Well, I'm in the Department of Magical Games and Events... seeing as this party is filled with people who... work in Magical Games and Events."

"Oh? What's your position?"

Great. The question again.

"A secretary of sorts."

"Really? Wow, that must be boring."

"You know, it really - _hey!_" I cry, giving him a slight hit on the shoulder. "It's not _that_ bad..."

He peers at me, with an eyebrow raised.

"Okay, fine," I say, crossing my arms. "But a job's a job."

"Well, at least I like _my_ job," he says, a distant smile playing his lips.

"What are you in?"

He gives me a look, as if to confirm what I've just said. "You're serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

His mouth is half open. What? I don't know! Did I say something wrong?

"I'm in quidditch," he finally says, narrowing my eyes at me. "I'm sure you know what that is."

"Of course I do!" I'm so offended at the moment. "I play quidditch!... Well, at least I played quidditch. In school."

He seems to have his dashing smile back on. "Chaser?"

"How'd you know?"

"You're built like one."

"Excuse me?"

"Ah, you know, lean, fit, tall... it all adds up."

"And I'm guessing you're one too?"

"Actually, no, I'm a Beater."

"I love playing Beater!"

"It's fun, isn't it?"

"It kicks - "

"Katie?"

I freeze as my name is called. By that familiar voice. By that one person I can't stand to see at the moment.

"What do you want, Oli - "

"Alan?" Oliver exclaims, a bit taken aback. He looks over at me. "Do you two _know_ each other?"

"Do _you_ two know each other?" Alan asks in return, giving me and Oliver weird looks.

"Yes, we do," I reply to Alan. I turn around to Oliver. "And we just met, Alan and I. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a conversation going on."

Oliver, ignoring me, steps over towards Alan. "The coach wants to talk to you. Something about Ludo Bagman?"

Alan's brows furrow. "I didn't do anything to Bagman, did I?"

"No, he just wants to meet you."

"Oh... alright then."

And just as suddenly as he came, he's gone.

"Thanks a _lot,_ Oliver," I hiss, as he turns to face me. "I was having such a nice time finally too."

Rolling me eyes, I turn on my heel, making my way towards my cubicle. Why does he always do that? Show up during the times when he's not wanted? Okay, fine, it's only happened just this once. But _still!_ I was having a nice time! I was mingling! I was begining to like this Alan too...

"Well, you're mighty welcome."

I stop midway from taking a step, my mouth open. Turning slowly around, my eyes narrow into slits.

"_What_ is your problem?" I demand softly, incase anyone would be nosey enough to listen in.

"I'd tell you," he says, his eyes also narrowing, "but I don't want to offend you."

"Oh, like you haven't already done so."

"Fine. I don't want to offend you even more."

"You know, you can be a real jerk sometimes."

"At least I'm a jerk who doesn't run away from their problems."

"I _hate_ you!"

"_Thank you!_"

"You're mighty welcome!"

I scream with frustration, as everyone around us looks towards my way. Inhaling deeply, I try to remain calm as I make my way to my cubicle. Who does this guy think he is? Stupid guy. I hate him. Oh, how I _hate_ him! And sadly, I don't even know _why!_ It's not fair! The one time I decide to hate someone, I don't have a reason! Why is he so... so... I don't know! Why is he so _Oliver?_ Gosh, I'm so angry that I can't even find a word to describe him, leading me to use his own name!

I'm so glad there's only around forty minutes left! I'm so glad that I'm confined in my cubicle! I'm so glad I have a good, comfy chair! I'm so glad -

"Can we talk?"

Glaring up at the entrance, I see him again.

"Will you just leave me the fuck alone?" I cry, slamming my fists on my table. "Haven't you already done enough damage?"

"_Me?_" he exclaims, coming into the cubicle and forcefully plopping down onto my chair. If he breaks, he buys. "I haven't done anything! _You,_ on the other hand, inflict physical pain!"

"Physical pain doesn't hurt as much as emotional pain!"

"When have I done anything to emotionally scar you?"

"You - " I start to say, but catch myself. No, I'm not going to tell him. I'm not going to tell no one. "Nothing."

"Well, thanks for telling me," he says sarcastically, drumming his fingers on the table.

"What do you _want?_" I ask crossing my arms, leaning back.

"I want to talk."

"Funny, ever since you came in, you've done nothing but argue."

"Arguing is talking, but just with more force."

"_What_ do you _want?_" I repeat, my voice dangerously low.

"I want to talk," he says slowly, as if I was not capable of placing words together.

"Of _what?_"

"Of our sitation."

"Oliver, we _have_ no situation!"

"Yes, we do!"

"_No,_ we don't!"

"Why can't you ever listen to me?"

"Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"You are the _most_ difficult person I know, Katie," he sighs, rubbing his forehead.

"Odd, I thought I was the bitchiest."

"That too."

"And you expect me to listen to you, knowing that you see me as a complete bitch?" I ask incredously, my eyes widening with anger. "You expect me to be nice to you, after calling me a bitch? You expect me to actually be your _friend,_ when you don't even _like_ me?"

"I like you," he replies, shrugging.

"_Augh!_" I exclaim, hitting my head on my table. "What do you _want_ from me?"

"I want you to hear me out."

"_No!_ I will _not _hear you out! Sorry, I'm a bit too _bitchy_ to listen to you. I'm a bit too _bitchy_ to give you _any_ respect. And I'm a bit too _bitchy_ to ever talk to you again! Now if you please, _get out of my cubicle!_"

He stares at me. Right at me. In my eyes. It's a bit unnerving, to have Oliver Wood stare at you. I don't like it. I hate him. I can't stand him. I don't want _anything_ to do with him! And I don't need to take anything from someone who thinks I'm the bitchiest person, twenty-four-seven.

"Please, get out of my cubicle," I say weakly, breathing heavily.

"Okay," he finally says, tearing his gaze away from me. "I'm really sorry for saying that, Katie - "

"Go."

"I never thought you'd take it so personally - "

"Go."

"I'm sorry. And I completely understand if you never want to see me again - "

"Please - _go._"

"I didn't mean it. I was just angry that day. Anyway, I'm sorry - "

"Ohmigosh _Katie!_ You'll _never_ guess who I met! Oliver - "

Both Oliver and I look up to see Nasuada, who seems out of breath and quite excited. And she finally notices Oliver, standing in my cubicle.

"_Hi!_" she says breathlessly, patting her skirt, looking at Oliver. "I'm Nasuada Keele. Ludo Bagman introduced me to you."

"Well, it's very nice to see you again, Nasuada," he replies stiffly, trying to get out, but Nasuada's blocking the way.

"And it's obvious that you know Katie, since she used to play quidditch with you," she says, laughing lightly.

"Yes, I know Katie," he says, glancing at me. I look away.

Nasuada looks back and forth between us. "Sorry, did I interrupt something?"

"No, Nasuada, you didn't," I assure her, sounding business like. "We were just simply having a nice chat."

"And what a _nice_ chat it was," Oliver says mildly, rolling his eyes.

"What happened with you two?" Nasuada asks, her eyebrows both raised. "You seem quite edgy."

"It's nothing," I say, annoyed.

"It's her answer to everything," Oliver tells her, giving her a knowing look.

"Oh, don't let yourself get too upset." Nasuada pats Oliver on the arm. "She'll get over it."

What?

"Oh, I doubt it," Oliver says, shrugging. "But it doesn't matter. Anyway, I think I'll be off. It was good to meet you, Nasuada."

Smiling, Nasuada moves aside for Oliver, waving cheerfully. Giving me one last look, he strides away, his air of confidence back into his stride.

"He's such a nice fellow, isn't he?" Nasuada comments, taking the once vacant guest seat.

"_I'll get over it?_" I cry, leaning forwards.

She leans back. "What?"

"Don't go around telling people what I'll do!"

"Well, sorry, Katie. I didn't know you were so angry - "

"If you don't know, then don't _say_ anything!"

"Gosh, Katie. You don't need to be dramatic about it," she says accusingly, adopting a tone in her voice. "I was just trying to lighten the mood - "

"Well, don't!" I tell her, hitting my hand on the table. "Don't do anything! I don't need your help."

"Fine then! I was just trying to be a friend! Do you know what being a friend means, Katie? Well, I guess not, since you have everyone mad at you!"

"I _know_ what a friend is, Nasuada!"

"_Really?_ What with you being all - "

"All what?"

"All _bitchy!_"

Oh, she didn't.

"Oh, I _did!_" she exclaims, reading my thoughts. "And until you've finally returned to your old self, don't bother talking with me!"

She gets up forcefully, slamming the chair back into its place.

"Oh, believe me!" I call out, as she stomps away. "I won't be talking to you much!"

Huffing, I plop back down into my seat. Great. Just great. Now, not only am I in a fight with Oliver, but Nasuada too. I don't want to fight with Nasuada. She's the only friend I've got here. And I love her. She's such a nice person. But not at the moment. Even if I don't want to be in a fight with her, I'm still mad at her. Who does she think she is, telling people that I'll get over something? She shouldn't talk, until she's got the whole situation understood.

Checking at my watch, I see that there's only around fifteen minutes. As of right now, I don't care if I leave early. I _will_ leave early! I don't want to be here anymore! I am sick of this place.

Grabbing my bag, I walk as quickly as possible towards the exit. I really need that cake and bath. And I really want this day to be forever erased from my memory.

"Hey! Slow down!"

Ignore them, and they will leave you alone.

"Hey! Katie! Lessen the pace, will ya?"

"_What?_" I ask irritably, turning around. Oh, it's Alan.

"Sorry," he says, automatically taking a step backwards. "Didn't know you were in the wrong mood."

"No, it's alright," I sigh, turning back around. "It was very nice meeting you."

I continue to walk towards the lift, pressing the down button. I can still hear noises from the party; shirlls of laughter, squirting Gobstones...

"Are you okay?"

A figure stands beside me.

"Yes," I reply stiffly.

"Oh. Well, that's good to know."

The lift opens, and I step onto it. But so does Alan.

"Aren't you going to stay?" I ask, pressing the button to level one.

"Nah... don't fit in too well in parties."

"You're not alone."

"Thank goodness. I thought I was just a prude."

"You're not a prude," I tell him, smiling. At least this guy can help me get back into a good mood.

"So you know Oliver, eh?" he asks, glancing sidelong at me.

"Yes," I say curtly, playing with my fingers.

"Good man, he is."

"I'm sure."

"So you went to school with him, I hear?"

"Who told you?"

"He did."

"When?" I ask curiously. I don't remember Oliver and Alan speaking much today...

"Oh, theres much talk about you," he replies, smiling at me. "Always mentions you during every practice. Of course, I didn't know you were _the_ Katie."

Well, I didn't know that.

"Oh," I say, not knowing quite _what_ to say. "That's nice."

"If you ask me, I think he fancies you," he says, glancing at me.

Oliver Wood fancies me? I - Wait, _no!_ I don't care! I hate Oliver. And I want nothing to do with him ever again.

"I highly doubt that, Alan," I say, my brows furrowing together. "He doesn't fancy me. And I don't care what ill feelings he has towards me."

"He's not that horrible - "

"Could we _please_ not mention Oliver?"

"Sorry," he says softly, shifting around uncomfortable. "Didn't know you two were... in an argument."

"Yes, well," I sniff, crossing my arms. "Don't talk about him with me. I wish nothing to do with him."

"Won't mention him again, Miss."

There's an awkward silence as the lift opens up, letting us off. I walk towards the exit, where Eric, the security guard, is missing. Oh well. I could always let myself out I suppose.

I'm about to turn the corner, until Alan calls me back.

"Yes?" I ask, tapping my foot impatiently.

"Would you like to have some tea?" he suggests, looking confident. Is it just me, or do all quidditch players seem cocky? I mean, this guy isn't even flinching. Most of the time, when men ask out women, they're shy, blushing, mumbling, or super quick so that you can't hear them. But not Alan.

"You mean right _now?_" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"_Yes._"

Hmmm... well, I did have my heart set out on cake and a bath. And I am feeling a bit stressed, not to mention angry. But this is Alan. The pretty quidditch Beater. Who plays with the Wasps! That's why his name sounded so familiar! And why he looked so familiar! And why he knew Oliver...

Ugh. Don't _think_ about Oliver. You _don't _want to think about Oliver.

"You know what?" I say, walking towards him. "I think I _will_ have tea with you."

He smiles at me, extending an arm for me. Taking it, he directs me towards the opposite direction.

"So you like playing Beater?" he asks, as we head down the street.

"Absolutely love it," I reply, remembering my lovely hit towards Maurie.

"Do you like Beaters then?"

I smile to myself. Boy, do I know where this conversation is leading to.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Although I didn't have my bath, I did have my cake. He took me out to a tea shop, and we had cake. I'd fall in love with him right then and there, but let's face it; now isn't the time to be falling in love. No, not when you're angry at two very important people.

Well, okay. One very important person and one slightly less important person. Because that person is a stinker. A big gigantic fucking stinker.

"So how old are you?" Alan asks, as we walk out of the shop. No holding arms this time.

"Twenty-two," I reply, looking at him sidelong.

"Quite young there, then."

"I'm getting up there. And you?"

"What about me?"

"Your age."

"Twenty-six," he says, shrugging. "I've passed the half point."

"You still have four years until the big three-oh."

"I guess."

I enjoyed my talk with Alan. He was nice, courteous, funny, witty and... well, just wonderful. He asked me questions. He never droned on and on. He was interesting.

"So where to, my lady?" he asks, turning to face me. How can someone so pretty be so gosh darn _nice?_

"Oh, well, I was thinking of going back home, actually," I tell him. I hope he's not disappointed.

"I'll walk you home."

"No, it's alright," I say, sounding a bit hesitant. "I can walk home myself. _Really._"

"I'll walk you home," he repeats, a stern tone in his voice. "Don't argue with me."

"_What!_ Don't argue with a woman. You don't win," I tell him, reminding myself of yesterday. And how it had been Oliver who said it.

Go away, Oliver. I don't need you popping into my head at the moment.

There.

"Well, too bad," he says, grabbing my hand firmly. "You're stuck with me until you get home."

"Seriously," I say, trying to yank my hand away from his. "I can go myself! Why are you so strong?"

"I've learned to get a good grip on things," he says lightly, smiling at me. "Don't even try. It's pretty much useless."

"No, _really!_ I'll go home alone; don't make me part of your priority."

"What if you get kidnapped?"

"I _wont._"

"But what _if?_"

This guy is starting to remind me of Oliver. Damnit. I said don't think about Oliver. Stupid Oliver.

"_Fine!_" I say, heaving a sigh. "Fine. But once I get there, I can make my own way upstairs."

"Fine," he says lightly. "So where to?"

"Your left."

"Lead the way, fine miss."

* * *

okay guys. i need some help. i'm _trying _to make it to the '100' hits thing. i'm really excited (seriously, i'm not kidding hahaha). so please please _pleeaassee_ give me some reviews! as long as i get to the big hundred point, i'll jump for joy.

**and longones people; _long._** (thanks for those who did give me long ones - big thumbs up) by the way, i like long. ;) haha ew


	10. Didn't Steal Your Boy

**a/n:** i know, another update within october. i guess you could say, with all my projects finished, i've finally taken the time to write this chapter. hope you like it. i've got another set of projects coming, so there won't be much updates. until they're done, of course. have fun reading!

* * *

Work has never been this boring. First of all, I have no one to talk to. No one to spend time with. No one to have lunch with. No one to hang out with. 

And I guess you could really say it's my fault.

Maybe I should apologize. I mean, fine. I admit it. I've been a bit of a hardcore bitch these past few days. But you can't blame me. There were many things that triggered it. One: my mother had given me a letter, stating that everyone in the family had been married - cousins and all that - except for me. And that she was quite surprised, since I'm such a fantastic lady. Which made me all the more depressed because it obviously means I'm not 'such a lady', I'm not the greatest catch, and that I'm just sad.

Another thing was that quidditch game. And Fred. And Maurie. And my still unhealed arms. God, my arms look hideous.

I miss Nasuada. We haven't been talking for a whole week. Do you know how lonely it is, to be sitting here, in the most fun department, with no friends? Exactly. It's horrible. I'm so alone. I have no friends. I mean, I'd gladly go make some, but I'm scared. Scared that they'll ask me to join their ultra-fun gobstones club.

I haven't seen Oliver all week. But that doesn't surprise me. I mean, I did tell him to go away, right? Oddly enough, I do miss his company. I mean, after being around him literally every other day for the past three months, you tend to get accustomed to things. Or people. Whatever. But let's not think about Oliver. Because we're still mad at him. Yes we are.

Or, _I_ am, at least. Don't know about you.

Speaking of Oliver, I haven't seen Alan around either. But then, he's probably busy with quidditch. He did eventually walk me home. And as promised, left me there at the door of my building. Of course, he watched me enter, and then left afterwards. it was still nice of him to walk me home.

It's almost lunch time. God, how I hate lunch time. I eat alone. I don't have my Nasuada with me anymore. I've seen her around the lunch room. She eats with her fellow Floo Network buddies. I remember her telling me how she didn't like them much. Funny how she'd go through such lengths to avoid me.

I've been doing nothing for the past two weeks, since I did most of my work during the remainder of my vacation. Since I'm not talking to Oliver, and Alan's away, Nasuada not talking with me, Fred still scared of me, making Angelina stay away from me, and Alicia off to visit her parents in France, there's no one to hang around with. Harry's busy with Jeffrey and Ginny, George is always working at the new store, and Lee is just... never available. So basically, I'm just showing up for work to get paid. Selfish, yes, but there's nothing to do at home. I can't talk to Float because fish don't talk back. Scoop and Brown have each other to squak at. Or hoot at... well, whatever. They have each other.

Well, since no one's noticing me, I think I'll kip down to lunch early today.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

So that was interesting. Marlene decided to sit with me at lunch today. And surprise surprise - she brought some gobstones with her. And then her lunch buddies came. And started playing gobstone in my face. I was most displeased; the stupid gob juice squirt into my soup. And it smelled funny too.

And then as an apology, they invited me into a game of gobstone. Or actually, they more like forced me to. And so I did.

I know I'm a hypocrite, but it's not half bad, gobstones. In fact, I actually like the game now.

In that half hour, I learned the rules, the tricks, and all the good stuff on gobstones. I won two games - pretty good for a beginner, or so said Marlene. Now guess what guys - I have friends! Yes, I have friends at work! In my own department! At the moment, I'm all smiles. They even invited me to sit at their table. The only reason they sat with me was because the gobstones table looked dirty today. But they've invited to have lunch with them! And of course, play gobstones. One of these days, I'm going to own those guys.

But of course, each good moment comes with a price. I bumped into Nasuada at the lunch line. Quite surprised, actually. Who would think that Nasuada Keele, prefect, Ravenclaw, ultra rule-follower, would skip work and come down to lunch early as well? At first, I didn't know it was her because her back was to me. And then she turned around. And then she gave me eyebrow. Yeah, eyebrow. The big right eyebrow lift. And then walked away. Harsh.

Well, whatever. I'll apologize soon. I'm just working on what to say. Honest!

As of now, I must get to work. Jameson just came in and piled some new reports for me. About gobstones. But that's alright. And you know why? Because I like gobstones. So it's all good.

"Katie?"

Wow. A visitor already? Glancing up, I see a wave of brown hair. Oh great.

It's Maurie.

"Yes?" I ask bluntly, setting my report and quill down, my face impassive.

"Katie, are you busy at the moment?" she asks, her hands clutching her purse.

She's kidding me, right?

"Well, people do report to work because they have a job. And usually, when one is at a job, they're busy. So... yes, I'm busy."

"Oh... _really_ busy?"

Come on!

"Is there a problem?" I ask, drumming my fingers on my desk. How long will this woman stay?

"Yes, there is," she says, starting to pull out my guest chair. "And I wanted to talk to you about it."

Well, sorry, I don't want to talk to you.

"What?" I state, crossing my arms and eyeing her. She sits down uncomfortably in my guest chair, backing as far away as possible, and sitting as erect as possible.

"I wanted to talk to you about our situation," she tells me, looking me in the eye.

Our situation? She came all the way here to disturb me at work to talk about our _situation?_

"We _have_ no situation," I say in a monotone voice.

"Why do you hate me?" she asks, ignoring my statement.

"I don't hate you."

That's a lie and you know it.

Maurie raises her eyebrows. "You don't hate me?"

"Of course not."

Lie number two.

"Are you sure?"

"Of _course_ I'm sure," I reply, scrunching my hand into a fist underneath the table.

There's an awkward drift between us as I stare at her, and she looks around the place. Yeah, I know it's shitty in here. What are you gonna do about it?

"Nice place," she murmurs, coming to a conclusion, therefore looking at me.

"Thank you," I say harshly, not taking my eyes off her. "Is that all you wanted to talk about?"

"No, actually. There's still a few more things I need to talk about."

Oh, goodness gracious.

There's another moment of silence as she taps her hands on her lap, once again avoiding my gaze.

"_Well?_" I demand, after at least a minute had gone past without talking.

"It's about George," she suddenly blurts, leaning forward, both hands on the top of the desk. Whoa there, lassie.

"What _about_ George?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at her. "What did you do to him? Oh my god! You tricked him into getting pregnant with you! You _slu_ - "

"_No!_" she exclaims with a high pitch, bringing a hand to her chest! "I would _never!_"

"Then what is it?" I challenge, sticking my nose in the air. "I swear, if you did something to him, I'm gonna - "

"I don't understand him!"

... _What?_

"Sorry, I'm a bit lost here," I say, scratching my head. What is she going on about?

"George!" she cries, combing her fingers through her hair. "What is _wrong_ with me?"

"There are many qualities, actually. If you like, I have a whole supply - "

"What I _mean_ is," she says, giving me an annoyed look, "why won't he like me?"

Okay, is it just me, or does this situation not make sense?

"Why would you want George to like you?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, afterall, you already have a boyfriend..."

"Um, no, I don't," she replies, her brows furrowing together. "How on earth did you get that impression?"

Wow. This girl is like, fucking kidding me. She's... wow. I have no comment.

"_Because!_" I exclaim, now my turn slamming my hands on the desk. "You - you - _oh - my - god _- !"

"It's Oliver, isn't it?" she says matter-of-factly, a smug smile on her lips. I want to pucnh her. Seriously.

"No kidding!" I cry, rolling my eyes at her. "First you're with George, then you go after Oliver! And now you want George _back?_ Stop messing with the minds of my friends! Or, friend. Just George. I don't care what you do with Oliver's head at the moment."

"But Katie, I'm not... with Oliver."

What?

"I'm sorry," I say, clearing my throat and leaning towards her. "Could you run that by me again?"

"I'm not with Oliver," she says loudly and slowly, rolling her eyes at me. How dare she roll her eyes at me! Oh whatever. I rolled mine at her anyway.

"How could you not be with Oliver?"

"How could I?"

"How _could_ you? For the past... however long it was, you've been hanging around him! You've been flirting with him! And he's always... _always_ choosing you."

At this comment, she stares at me, her head tilted to the side, as if she's trying to consider me.

"Stop staring me," I tell her bluntly, crossing my arms.

"I have to tell you something," she says quietly, leaning foeward. "But you have to promise not to tell anyone."

"Fine, whatever."

"I'm not with Oliver."

"I've been informed of that."

"Oliver was helping me."

Why is it that what she just said sounded so horribly, amazingly wrong?

"_Sorry?_" I say, furrowing my brows at her.

"Well, see, all this time, I've only liked George," she says, bringing her hands together, looking a bit embarassed.

"Yeah, okay," I say sarcastically, leaning back into my chair. "Because that's very believable."

"No, honestly! Just ask Oliver!"

"Can't do that. We are currently not on speaking terms."

"Why?"

"It's none of your business."

She seems to be offended at this, biting her lip to keep from saying something back. I love it when I win.

"Alright, so go on with your story," I tell her, waving my hand at her.

She glares at me. "Has anyone ever told you how rude you are?"

"Yes, in fact I've been told many times."

"Don't you think you should start considering the feelings of others?"

"Oh, I do. But do _you?_"

"Of course I do!"

"Of _course_ you do."

"Why are you so mean to me? What could I have _possibly_ done to make you hate me so much?"

Oh, wouldn't you like to know. You should already know you... woman.

"What could you have done?" I repeat, rage once again entering into my blood. "What could you have _possibly_ done? _Everything!_ You _ruined_ everything! It was all good, and then you just had to show up!"

"What - "

"_Don't interrupt me!_" I cry, slamming my fists on the table. "You_ love_ doing that, don't you? Just barging into other people's live and relationships, claiming them as your own? Oh, but not this time, Maurie. Not _this_ time!"

"Katie, I don't understand - "

"_You took him away from me!_ We were friends, and now you've turned him over to your side! He _always_ picks you over me! And it's not fair! You've ruined my arms too! And now you're trying to sabotage George!"

Steaming, I breathe heavily, noticing that I've... stood up during my rant. Maurie, who is suppossed to look scared, does not look at all impressed.

"I didn't steal him away from you, Katie."

"Yes you did!"

"_No,_ I didn't. Go ask him if you want to."

"Well, I can't. I'm not speaking with him."

"You know," she says, her eyebrows raised at me. "He was right. You're one of the most temperamental, difficult and stubborn people ever."

"I am _not!_" I exclaim indignantly. "You're just a... taker!"

"A _taker?_ Wow, Katie. You're one with a wide vocabulary."

"Yeah, shut up! Why are you here? And what's your problem with George?"

She stares at me, with a funny look. "I like George. _Not_ Oliver."

"Would you care to explain?"

"Will you not interrupt me?"

"Fine."

"Thank you," she replies stiffly, resting her hands on her table. "Remember Fred and Angelina's wedding?"

I give a nod, not wanting to speak at the moment. This story better be good.

"Well, a few days before, I met George. We were both waiting for robes at Madame Malkin's. And after a drink and whatnot, he asked me to his brother's wedding."

"This is going to get somewhere right? Because frankly, I don't really care about your past with George," I say, jingling my leg out of sheer boredom.

"Anyway" she continues, acting as if she hadn't heard me. "I liked George. I really liked him. But at the wedding, he was so... not there."

"Care to expand?"

"His attention wasn't focused on me. It was focused on Alicia."

"So?"

"What do you mean so? If you ask someone on a date, you don't ignore them for someone else! Why would he ignore me?"

"But weren't _you_ the one who was trying to get Oliver's attention?" I ask, making her face turn red.

"That's different," she says, crossing her arms.

"Really? How so?"

"I was only talking to Oliver and flirting with him to make George jealous."

"Oh, alright then. That's a believable story."

"Wow, you actually believe me? Oliver often told me you needed quite the persuading - "

"I was being sarcastic."

"Ah."

"So would you carry on with your story now?"

"Right," she replies, clearing her throat. "So I told Oliver what was happening between George and I. How ever since the wedding, he hadn't spoken to me, or owled me. So Oliver, being such an aid, decided to help me. Everything between Oliver and I were an act. Maybe George would see and get mad."

"Hate to tell it to you," I say, rolling my eyes at her, " but your plan isn't working."

"Oh, you think?" she retorts, leaning back in her chair. "Anyway, I came here to tell you that."

"Why would you want to tell me that? It has nothing to do with me - "

"Because I know you like Oliver."

What? _What?_

No I _don't!_ Why is it that people always make assumptions of my being? I never said I like Oliver. I have never shown that I like Oliver. So why does she think I do?

"I don't like Oliver," I say, trying to keep my voice even. "Maybe as a friend, but not like _that._ Well, actually, I don't really like him at the moment."

She stares at me, eyebrows raised, her head tilted to the side. "Yep. Whatever you say, Katie."

Okay, now she pissing me off again. "I _don't!_" I cry, standing up, trying to make an effect. "I don't! Stop saying I do! Because I _don't!_"

She doesn't seem to care. In response, she shrugs, crossing her arms. Argh! Why is it that every argument I have always turns onto me? It's not fair!

"For someone who doesn't like Oliver," she says lightly, a small smile on her lips, "you sure are making a big deal out of it."

Damn! I can't think of a response! Man, of all times to have my brain malfunction!

"Oh, shut up," I grumble, sitting back down forcefully into my seat, biting on my tongue.

"So I'm also here to clear things up between you, Oliver and myself," she tells me, leaning forward, her hand on her chin.

"Clear _what?_" I say harshly, still not looking at her. Stupid bitch.

"One; I'm not 'taking' Oliver away from you. He's all yours if that's what you want. Two; Oliver and I are mutual friends and nothing more. Three; you should go apologize to Oliver for being a bi - "

Oh, don't you _dare_ say it.

"A bit hard core," she finishes, looking satisfied with herself.

Well, that's new. Hard core.

"And I'm sorry if I've caused you any grief," she says, her voice now a little less confident. "I really didn't mean to make you angry. I didn't know you'd get so angry at me for befriending Oliver. But we're just friends. Besides, he's far too fond of you to choose me over you. Anyway, I'm also sorry for scratching your arms. I guess I'm just that bad at quidditch, the only defense I could use are my finger nails."

She falls silent as her eyes are on me. Oh great. Now she's made me feel guilty. I hate feeling guilty. No matter how much I hate her, I have to forgive her now.

"I'm sorry for being..." I start, looking at her. "I'm sorry for being..."

"It's alright," she says simply, smiling at me. "You can say it. I promise I won't tell anyone."

Glaring at her, I take a deep breath. "I'm sorry for being a bitch."

Her smile grows bigger as she suddenly gets up from her chair, walking over to my side, and gives me a hug.

"What are you _doing?_" I cry, trying to push her away from me.

"_Thank_ you, Katie! You don't know how much this means to me!"

"And I don't think I ever will," I mumble, as my face is being squished.

Oh, what the hell. I might as well. Deciding not to fight her off, my arms wrap around her, making the hug complete. I think she took this as a good sign, because this hug just got that much tighter.

Finally letting go of me, she settles back into the guest chair, all smiles.

"So," I say, shifting around uncomfortably.

"Can I ask you something?" She leans forward as her face gets serious.

"Yes?"

"Did um... did George and Alicia like each other before?"

Of all questions to ask, she decides to ask this one. And I have to answer it.

"Yes. In fact, they went out for a bit in their sixth year I think. Didn't work though."

"Why not?"

"Too many differences back then I guess. Not too sure about now."

"Do you think they like each other?"

How the hell am _I _suppossed to know?

"Um... ask George," I reply slowly, shrugging. "Or Alicia. She's got a boyfriend named Elbert. Although I haven't heard her mention him lately."

Her hand bends down, making her hair hang limp. "Oh."

Well, what am I suppossed to say to her? Do I betray Alicia and help her get George? Besides, no offense to Maurie, but those two are meant for each other! Oh great. I hate forks like this.

"Bell, I hope you've got the report anlysis done - "

Looking away from Maurie, I find Jameson at the opening of my cubicle. He stares from me to Maurie, eyebrows raised.

"Should you really be having guests right after getting back from your break?" he asks, shaking his head at me. "I mean, the whole department's running around as if a whole cage of Doxys went loose."

At his, Maurie looks up, a bit surprised. "_Oh!_ Sorry, Katie! I didn't really mean to disturb you at work! I should go now, since we've got everything settled."

Grabbing her bag, she smiles at me and waves, a walks quickly out of the cubicle, leaving me alone with Jason.

"For your information, _Jason,_" I say through my teeth, handing my parchment over to him. "I _am_ finished my report. And I don't need you to be so rude to my guests."

"Oh, don't get dramatic about it," he says, rolling his eyes at me. "The whole office heard your conversation. Of course, they don't know who Oliver is, thinking he's some random bloke. I do though."

"Yes, well, you've got my report now."

"So who was that girl?" he asks me, sounding casual.

That's weird. Why on earth would Jason Jameson ask me who that girl was? I mean, he can't possibly be interested, could he? He's... well, _gay._ Now, I don't have anything against gay people. I don't! One of my friends are gay, and I am absolutely fine with it. It's actually even better, because I prefer shopping with him than anyone else. But why would Jason want to know who that girl was?

_Unless..._

No. Don't be stupid.

But let's have some fun.

"Why?" I ask, smiling up at him. "Why do you ask?"

The colour in his face drowns. "Nothing! Nothing. Forget I asked. It doesn't matter."

"Oh, but it _does _matter. I would like to know your intentions with her."

"What intentions? I don't even _know_ her!"

"Getting awfully upset over someone you haven't even met now, aren't you?"

"_Nevermind!_" he exclaims, waving a hand at me. "Nevermind! Just drop it, okay?"

He starts to walk away, until I call out, "Her name is Maurie Maravilla."

Stopping in his tracks, he turns around, staring at me.

"_Yes?_" I ask him, my back straight, hands clasped together, smiling brightly.

"Maurie Maravilla?" he repeats, looking distant.

"Maurie Maravilla."

"How old is she?"

"I dunno."

"Where's she from?"

"I dunno."

"Does she like flowers?"

"I dunno."

"She's your friend, and you _don't know?_" he asks, looking oddly at me.

"I never said she's my friend," I retort, crossing my arms. "You can say we're.. neutral to each other."

"She... doesn't have a boyfriend, right?"

"I suppose not."

"Do you think..." he starts to say, but then looks at me. "No, nevermind. I'd rather drown myself in dragon dung than to ask for your help."

Ouch... well, at least we know that he really does hate me.

"Are you _sure?_" I ask, in a luring voice. "You'll never, _ever_ see her again. Do you _want_ that? The only time you'll ever see her is in your wide imagination. Do you _want_ that? You never even said _anything_ to her, and the first impression she got of you is a little booger. Do you _want_ that? Is _that_ what you want?"

"No." He narrows his eyes at me. He looks so silly. "That's not what I want."

"So what _is_ it that you want?" I ask, resting my hand on top of his. "I promise I won't tell anybody."

"I don't _want _anything!" he exclaims, shaking my hand off of his. "I just wanted to ask you if you could introduce me to her! God!"

"Now, now, Jason. Angering me isn't going to help you."

"Well, then, I don't need to know her! Alright? Okay, let's just forget this ever happened."

"It's a free world, full of different choices,' I reply lightly, resting my arms behind my head.

Grumbling, he leans back into the chair, avoiding me. "WillyouintroducemetoMaurieplease?"

"Sorry, can't hear you!" I say in a sing-songy voice. Oh, I can hear him perfectly fine.

"Will you introduce me to Maurie please?" he asks in an undertone, glaring at me.

"Why, Jameson! I thought you'd _never_ ask!"

"Don't _tell_ anyone!"

"I promised you I wouldn't. I'm not like you."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing."

"That's what I thought."

"Anyway," I say, smiling at him. "I'm quite astonished by you, Jason. You always surprise me."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, my impression of you was that you were gay. Apparantly, you _aren't_ - "

"You thought I was _gay?_" he asks, his mouth agape at me.

I shrug. "Jameson, everyone in the building thinks you are. Except Nasuada. She's always had faith in you. I guess she was right all along."

"_I'm not gay!_" he says, clutching at his heart. "Why would you think that?"

I raise my eyebrows, eyeing his hand clutching his heart. He sees me looking, and immediately drops his hand.

"Well, other than that, why would you think that?"

"Oh, come _on_ Jameson! Don't make me answer the obvious! You're so... prissy. And all snitchy. And you're protective of your hands. You always need to dress right and be matching. No one _cares!_"

"_I_ care! I need to look nice!"

"See? That's why."

"But I'm not gay..."

"And don't you worry. I'll pass on the word."

Rolling his eyes at me, he makes a sound underneath his breath, getting up from the chair. "I'll deliver these to Boister."

"Bye Jason! And I'll tell Maurie all about you."

Biting his tongue, he leaves with a nod.

Now isn't this an interesting day? Maurie comes and apologizes, saying she likes George instead of Oliver. And now Jason Jameson isn't gay. How glad am I that I didn't report today as a sick day?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"I can't _believe_ you're pregnant!"

"I know, neither can I."

"When did you find out?"

"Three weeks ago."

"And you never told me?"

"Well, I didn't want to alarm anyone!"

"I still can't believe it!"

"And neither can I!"

At the moment, I'm sitting in Angelina and Fred's house, enjoying a nice talk with Angelina and Alicia. Fred decided to go have lunch with Lee Jordan. That and because I think he's still a bit scared of me. Whatever.

We were having tea, when Angelina had sprung it to Alicia and I that she's pregnant. Pregnant! Angelina! Can't tell you how suprised we both were.

"So is that why you sat out of the game at Oliver's?" Alicia asks, holding onto Angelina's hand.

"Yeah. I just found out the day before, and I got a bit freaked out," she replies, smiling sheepishly. "Gotta be careful now. And I have to give up quidditch."

"Only until the kid's born," Alicia says, waving her hand dismissively. "How long will that be?"

"In another six months."

"What's morning sickness like?" I ask, curiosity getting at me.

"_Ew_, Katie! We're having tea and you ask about _morning sickness?_" Alicia exclaims, making a face at me.

"I just wanted to know." I shrug, sipping my tea.

"Let's just say it's gross," Anglina says, looking a bit disgusted herself. "Anyway, I hope it's not twins. No offense or anything."

"Why not?" Alicia asks, leaning on her hand. "Twins seem like so much fun!"

"After hanging around Jean and Antonin, you have second thoughts," I answer, smiling fondly.

"Hear hear," Angelina says, shaking her head at me.

Our conversation dies down a bit, as everyone takes a sip of tea again. Or, in Angelina's case, two cups of tea and three cakes.

"So, um, Alicia," I start, trying to make myself sound casual. "How's Elbert?"

At this, colour fades from Alicia's face. "Oh, we've broken up just last week."

"Oh god, I'm awful!" I cry, feeling guilty. "I'm sorry, Alicia!"

"No, that's alright," she replies, waving her hand. "I don't really mind. _I _broke up with _him _anyway."

"Why?"

"Too many differences."

"No offense, Alicia," Angelina scoffs, taking another two slices of cake. "But that's your excuse with every guy you decide to go out with."

"_Untrue!_" she shrieks, looking affronted.

"George Weasley, Jan Douglas, Kennith Ornelli, Shang Chen - "

"Oh, shut _up,_ you!" she says, hitting Angelina lightly on the arm.

"So what's with you and George?" Anglina asks, taking the question away from me. Hey - at least I don't have to fret about thinking of a way to ask her now.

"What _about_ George?" she asks in return, sounding light.

"I saw you two at Oliver's. Don't deny anything."

"Who says I'm denying anything? If you're talking about denial, go talk to Katie."

"What the hell is _that_ suppossed to mean?" I exclaim, crossing my arms.

"Oh, give me a break, Katie," Alicia says, rolling her eyes. "I know you have a thing for Oliver."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"Because you do?"

"I _don't!_"

"Yeah, okay. Fine, whatever."

"Don't change the subject, Alicia," Angelina says, smiling at her best friend. "Is there something between George and yourself?"

"I'd be lying if I said no," she replies simply, but I can see the blush creeping up her face.

And apparantly, so can Angelina. "So what have you two been up to?"

"_Nothing!_" Alicia says, putting up her hands. "We just went out to dinner a couple of times, went over to each other's houses a couple of times, and... well, that's it."

"What did you do at each other's houses?" Anglina asks, looking interested.

"Oh, come _on,_ Angelina!" I say, laughing at her. "You can't possibly be _that_ thick! What do they do at each other's houses... honestly."

Alicia smiles devilishly as she picks up her cup of tea.

"So is it safe to say you're together?" I ask grabbing for a cake. Angelina slaps my hand, taking it for herself. Rolling my eyes, I say "Geez, all you had to do was say you wanted the cake."

Shrugging, Angelina takes a bite out of it. "I'm eating for two."

"_What_ an excuse," I reply sarcastically.

"_Anyway!_" Alicia says, diverting our attention back to her. "We're not together... yet. At the moment, we're just... reserved for each other."

"Well, that's good," Angelina says, swallowing the last piece of cake. "At least you're finally together again. I mean, in my opinion, you two are the most perfect match. Aside from myself and Fed of course. And Katie and Oliver."

"I don't _like_ Oliver!"

"Yeah yeah, pipe down there, Katie. Speaking of Oliver - "

"We weren't even _talking_ about him!" I cry, running my fingers through my hair.

"Well, we are now! Have you talked to him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm still mad at him."

"What, for calling you a bitch? Come on, Katie. Everyone's called you that at least once. Hell, even Alicia and I have!"

"That's different!"

"Why?"

"Because she secretly likes Oliver," Alicia pips in, smiling at me. "And it bothers her how someone she likes sees her as one."

"_I - don't - like - Oliver!_"

"Fine. You don't like Oliver. Satisfied?" Alicia says, rolling her eyes at me.

"Yes!"

"Talk about stubborn. No wonder why Oliver's stopped talking to you."

_What?_

"_I _stopped talking with _him!_" I announce, nose in the air.

Angelina shrugs. "If you really want to stop talking to him for the rest of your life, have fun with that. It's not going to last."

"Boy, _you_ sure have faith in me," I say tonelessly, looking over at her.

"Well, it's true. For one thing, Oliver can't stand having people mad at him. When I got mad at him, he wouldn't leave me alone for a _second!_ He was constantly complimenting me on my quidditch and offering help with homework and the such, until I finally forgave him. And for another - "

"He never left you alone?" I ask, an eyebrow raised up. "Odd, he hasn't been... tailing _me_ around..."

"Because you told him to leave you alone _forever,_" Angelina says, patting my hand. "Don't worry. Give him about another two weeks or less. He'll crack. He can't stand it."

"_No!_ I don't _want_ to talk to him!"

"Suit yourself," Alicia says, shrugging. "What's that second thing then, Angelina?"

"Secondly," she says, looking back over at me. "I know you want to talk to him."

Can these two be any more frustatring?

"_No,_ I _don't._"

"Oh, it's alright, Katie. We understand perfectly," Alicia says, now her turn to pat me. "But let's not kid yourself."

"But I'm not - "

"One day, you'll look back to this day, and see that Angelina and I are the people who know you best."

"I don't _like_ him - "

"So, Angelina, I was thinking Katie and I could throw your babyshower."

"Stop changing the subject!" I cry, slamming my hands down on the table.

"_Oh!_" Alicia exclaims, smiling at me. "Did you want to discuss Oliver?"

"What - _no!_ I _don't_ like - "

"Settle down, settle down," she says, patting my head. "Anyway, I was thinking on your fifth month, you know?"

Sigh...

* * *

i _LOVE_ your long reviews! well, i love the ones i got. seriously guys, **LONG REVIEWS**. they make me happy. i hate reading homework questions and word problems. i'd much rather read your reviews! and i hope you liked this chapter. first one without oliver since the first chapter. well, don't worry. he'll be making a come back. 8)

by the way, i really hate peer tutoring. i really do. it's not the teacher. it's class. they're rude, rowdy, and little shits. ugh, grade nines. NOT THAT ALL GRADE NINES ARE BAD! just those bunch. well, a few from the bunch. other than that, peer tutoring is great. i just had to get that off my chest.

**LONG REVIEWS PEOPLE, LONG REVIEWS**


	11. From Left to Right

**a/n:** ohmuhguuuddddddd i have friends in history class! i'm so happy! hahahah ok, i already had friends, but not close ones. and these guys _ASKED ME_ to be part of their group! you have no idea how much that made me happy. i thought i was going to be groupless and forced to work with other people. but... nope.

anyway, peer tutoring is so fucking gay. seriously - i hate those fucking grade nines. they asked me to give them props, and then they slam their knuckles into mine. MAN THAT HURT. so i punched him back. hahahaha oh niners.

anyway, enjoy the story, hope you like this chapter 8-)

* * *

Okay guys. I've finally got an apology done for Nasuada. It's taken about another week, but it's done. Sure, it's been written on like, the first day, and it's taken me six whole days to get the nerve to do it, but I'm going through with it. Why? Because Nasuada is my friend, and because I want her to be my friend again. So, I'm planning to do it today. 

And Angelina is wrong. It's been a whole week, and still no sign of Oliver. Not that I'm counting the days or anything. I'm just implying the fact that Angelina isn't always right, like she thinks she is. It's not like I even want to talk to Oliver. I'm just saying that he hasn't shown face. So I'm right, and Angelina is wrong, and Oliver and I will never talk again.

Not that I care. I really don't.

I know what you're thinking. But you're wrong. I don't care.

So there.

Anyway, all week long, I've been eating with the Gob Gang. Or Gobbers. Whatever it is they call themselves. You know, the gobstoners? I've gotten quite good at the game - I even beat someone! I think his name's Carl. Well, I beat Carl! I was so excited, I even went out of my way to get a set of gobstones from Fred and George. They gave me a special set - ones that splurt extra smelly stuff at your opponent.

Plus, I think Jason's avoiding me. And I also think he's ashamed of himself to go ask for my help to land him a date. I'm not that bad! Besides, my heart isn't as cruel as his own. If I asked him for help, he'd probably parade it throughout the building. But I'm not like that - I'm nice.

Well, nicer than _him_ at least.

Okay, it's almost time for break. And when break starts, all I need to do is hurry upstairs, find Nasuada and apologize. She'll accept it. She's a very understanding person. Or I hope she is. Otherwise, I'd be screwed for life, Nasuadaless. And I don't want that. Nope. Can't afford to lose Nasuada's friendship. It's funny because I remember, back in school, I didn't even know she existed. Well, she knew about me, since I was a quidditch player. But she told me she thought I was a priss. I'm not sure what she thinks of me now though. I hope she'll forgive me.

And I can't believe Jason Jameson isn't gay. I mean, seriously. He's just so... he's extra. Seriously. The guy is good-looking, can match his clothes, is a neat-freak, and so up to date with the latest gossip! All signs point in that direction. And yet, he isn't gay. Oh the world works in mysterious ways.

Oh, will you look at that! It's time for break.

Okay, I'm lying, but I'm getting more nervous by the minute. You know how people get nervous habits and stuff like that? Like how some people sweat and some people start shaking? I don't know why, but when I'm nervous, I break down in hysteric giggles. I remember George once told me I looked like an idiot. That was during my fourth year - the last quidditch match. The Gryffindor-Slytherin showdown, which we later on won. Anyway, I remember being extremely nervous. The whole team was nervous, since everyone in the school gave us tension. And every other second, I'd just pop up laughing. Oliver made it worse though. I mean, yeah Fred and George were cruel, but to a certain extent. They always made me nervous by telling me the game was coming near. But _Oliver._ Oliver would just suddenly appear out of nowhere, grab me by the shoulders and start shaking me, giving me quidditch facts from his quidditch books. Or quidditch tips. Or flying techniques. And after every fact, tip and technique, he'd always end it with _'the game is drawing near and if you make _one_ mistake, I will hunt you down and hurt you'._ Not good for my health. And after every time Oliver would appear, I'd just sit on the floor, laughing my dumb ass off. Embarassing, yes. Whatever.

I'm going to find Nasuada now. I've already broken into a giggle fit. People around the floor are starting to check up on me.

- - -- - - - - - - - -

I haven't been up here in quite a long time. In fact, I haven't been up here since... well, I'd say around a year ago. When Nasuada invited me to her office. Yeah, she gets an office. Ah well... she never mentioned anything about my cubicle.

The office here is so boring. I mean, aside from the ever flying paper airplanes and dozens of fireplaces, it's a bit dull. I don't understand how she can stand such a place as this.

Now let's pinpoint where this girl is.

If I remember correctly, she's located in office 303. So where's that?

"_Excuse_ me!"

OUCH! What the hell?

"You _need_ to watch where you're going, miss!"

Pushing myself off the ground, I see that I'm in front of a fireplace, with my legs entangled in those of an agitated looking wizard. Shoving my legs off, he grumbles to himself, without even saying sorry. As he gets up, he shoots me a death glare, and walks away.

People on this floor are really edgy! And why on earth are there fireplaces everywhere? Surely, not every single one of these things get used. Do they?

I knew I shouldn't have come here! Why couldn't I just wait until lunch? Oh yes, my giggle fits. Oh great. Here they come again...

"Miss, are you alright?"

Covering my mouth with my hand, I turn around to see a small crowd of people, gathering around me, but inching back as though I was infectious. Giving a stiffling nod, I hurry my way, uncovering my mouth, with a dumb smile plastered all over my face.

Man! What _is_ this? Why can't I find her stupid office? How can this place get so complicated? Last time I checked, it was just... like a shoe box! It's more like a maze now! How can it be a maze? This place is suppossed to be coordinated! It's the Floo Network! How can the Floo Network be so _messy?_

"_Katie?_"

OH THANK GOD!

"Nasuada! I'm so friggin happy I've found you!" I cry, putting my hands on her shoulders.

She gives me a weird look. "Why?"

"Because I'm lost!"

"Why?"

"...Because I don't know my way around here."

She raises an eyebrow at me, prying my hands off herself. "Why are you even down here? You're _never_ down here."

"I know!" I reply, trying to keep this chat on the bright side. "I came here looking for you."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because...?"

"I need to tell you something."

"Oh, what, that I'm a lousy person?" she retorts, rolling her eyes at me. Without giving me a second glance, she turns around on her heels and walks away.

"Fine!" I call after her, anger boiling up my throat. "_Fine!_ Be that way! I'm trying rekindle the friendship and all you can do is walk away! Some friend _you_ are!"

Damnit! She's _ignoring_ me!

"Yeah, that's right! Walk away! I don't need you!"

Why isn't she turning back? Is she really just going to take that? Wow, if it were me, I know I wouldn't. Anyway, what did I come here for? Oh yes, for apologizing to her. Might as well chase after her before I lose sight of her.

"Nasuada! _Nasuada!_ Hold on!"

Why does this girl walk so_ fast?_ Goodness! "Nasuada! Wait - slow down! Come on!"

And yet, she is still walking.

"Nasuada! _Naaasuadaaaa!_"

At least I've finally gotten her attention. At my extremely loud holler, she turns around, red in the face, making hand gestures to look like... oh, alright then. They're not the best of hand gestures. Who knew Nasuada would have it in her to actually give me _that_ certain gesture? She's always the nicest person...

"What are you _doing?_" she hisses at me, once I've caught up to her. "You are disturbing everyone on this office! And embarassing _me!_"

I cast a look around the whole entire floor. Oh, she's right. People on this floor are really, _really_ not very pleseant, are they?

"What do you _want_ from me?" she asks, her brows furrowing together.

"I just wanted to talk to you," I reply, shrugging, trying hard to ignore the angry pairs of eyes from every inch of the place.

"Fine! Fine, I give up!" she says, shaking her head at me. "Just... we'll talk in my office I suppose. And don't yell!"

Before I can reply, she's off on her heels again, making me jog to keep up with her. And since when has this palce become so... twisty? We're going in turns here and there, just to get to her office! Oh, and there are many people that look so alike here! Everyone's got dark hair - I don't see any lighter heads. Well, at least I fit in. Well, here we are... I don't recall her office being so spacey. Man, why is it that everyone's got something better than me? It's really an unfair world, I hope you know.

"So," she says business like, taking a seat in her big, gigantic chair, offering a hand for me to sit. "What is your proposal?"

Wow. _She_ sounds mature. "Well, see, I wanted to talk to you - "

"Yes, you've mentioned that a few minutes ago. If you don't mind, please speed this up - I'm _very _busy."

"Of course!" I say quickly, clearing my throat and patting my hair. "I um... er... I just wanted - "

"Seriously, Katie. I don't have time if you keep stalling."

"I just wanted to... uh... to say that - "

Ah, the human mind is not always dependent. I've suddenly forgotten my apology speech. Great. Just _dandy!_

"If you're not going to say anything," Nasuada says, interrupting my thoughts, "then maybe you should just go."

"_No!_" I exclaim, shaking my head and waving my arms. "No! Really, I have to tell you something!"

"Then will you just _say_ it?"

"I wanted to apologize."

At this, she seems to go silent. Looking at her, I see that she's got this shocked, unbelieving face. With a furrowed and raised brow. Well, this is comfortable. She's just staring at me. Okay, what should I do? Stare back at her? No, mother always said that was impolite... So what can I do in such a situation? Maybe I could... no, I can't do _that._

"Okay," she gives a small laugh, shaking her head. "Seriously. What are you here for? I don't have time for jokes - "

"It's _not_ a _joke!_" I cry, a bit annoyed that she would think I was kidding around. "If I was joking, I wouldn't come down here anyway."

She narrows her eyes at me. "Come on, Katie. We both know that you don't - "

"Don't what?" I ask, crossing my arms. "Don't apologize? Well, I do!"

"No you don't! When have you _ever?_"

"That time when - "

Hmm...

Okay, fine. She's got me on that one. I admit it; I've never apologized for anything. Sure, some of you will find me an asshole after this, but it's what I do! Besides, I've never had to apologize because the fault was never mine. Well, at least, not mostly mine. Hey! Be glad that I'm turning myself around! I'm apologizing here!

"_Exactly!_" She sits back with a satisfied smile on her lips. "You've never apolgized, even if you did something wrong. So why should I believe you? How am I suppossed to know that this is actually a true apology, and not some phoney act to get me to speak to you again?"

"I'm _really_ here to apologize!" I exclaim, my confidence starting to lower. "I even had this whole entire speech written for you! It's not _my_ fault I suddenly forgot it."

"Maybe you just didn't practice it," she offers, peering at me from under her nose. "Or maybe, you just didn't bother to give it another thought and just came because you don't really mean to apologize to me. And that you just want to get this over with."

Well, she's got one point right - I do just want to get this over with. But Why does she hafta be so... not trusting?

"No, Nasuada! I'm serious! I'm sorry!"

"For what?"

"I'm sorry for making you mad at me. I'm sorry for blowing up on you - "

"You've done it more than that one time," she says, glaring at me. "Many a time, come to think of it."

Fighting the urge to blow up on her again, I swallow my comments and continue to apologize.

"I'm sorry for acting up on you for all those times, I don't mean it - I'm just a very emotional person."

"More like emotionally unstable."

"Shut - " I start, but catch myself before ending that remark. "Honest, Nasuada! I'm really sorry!"

"Oh, do continue," she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "I'll just sit here and _shut up_."

Ignoring her comment, I say, "I'm sorry for yelling at you. I didn't mean to blame you for anything. I'm just really really _really_ sorry."

Tugging on my fingers, I look up at her, trying to determine the look on her face. Once again, her eyebrow is raised, looking at me as if I were the weirdest person.

"You really have never apologized before," she comments, shaking her head at me. "No offense, but your apology was a bit lousy."

"Well, I'm _sorry!_ I didn't mean to get mad at you! I'm sorry for being a bitch - yes I admit it, I'm a bitch. But I can change! And I _will!_ If you forgive me, I promise to not yell at you and get mad at you! I promise that if I ever do anything wrong - even the _tiniest_ little thing - I will apologize! I promise to control my temper, and not talk a mountain! Please forgive me! I know that this is more like begging than asking. But I'm sincerely _sorry._"

She crosses her arms and leans back into her chair. "So you're telling me that you're _willing_ to apologize even if you do the _tiniest_ thing wrong?"

"Yes."

"And you promise not to be so bitchy?"

"Yes..."

"And that you're going to learn how to control your temper?"

"_Yes._"

"And quit being so emotional about the littlest thing?"

"Yes!"

"Oh, and that you'll change yourself?"

"Yes - _what?_" I say, my brows furrowing.

"That you'll change yourself," she repeats, leaning forward to her desk.

"Why?" I ask, trying to find out my flaws.

"Because I think you need a makeover."

"Are you saying I'm ugly?"

"_No,_" she says, rolling her eyes at me. "I assure you that you look perfectly fine. What I _mean _is, you need an _attitude_ makeover."

Attitude? What is wrong with my attitude? There is _nothing_ wrong with my attitude! I'm perfectly fine! What the hell? I'm not such a bad person! If I had an attitude problem, I'd be bitching at the moment! Atttitude problem... I'll show _you_ attitude problem -

Oh... so I _do_ have an attitude problem.

"And how are you going to do that?" I ask, my eyes narrowing at her.

"Teach you some manners, how to control yourself, and be more nice, forgiving, and make you see the brighter side of things."

"I _do_ see the brighter side of things!"

"Oh, give me a break, Katie!" she cries, folding her arms. "You're always... so... on the wrong side!"

"The wrong side?"

"Like... I don't know, you're always on the left."

"The _left,_" I repeat dully, scratching my head. "What's wrong with the left?"

"Nothing," she says, shrugging. "It's just that... you seem so negative all the time. Start going to the right side. The positive side."

"I _am_ positive!"

"You're not at the moment."

"Oh? And how am I not?"

"You sound bitter about it."

Well, that's true. But how would you feel if someone told you that you were the most negative person on the face of the earth? Exactly! Not so good, huh? I thought so.

"Well, I can change!" I say indignantly, sitting straighter in my chair. "I can be more... right."

"_Can _you?" Nasuada asks, raising a brow at me. "You're not really one up for a change, Katie. Though I must admit that your apology is a _very_ drastic movement."

"I _can!_ Watch me! _Then_ you'll see!"

"I guess I will then," she says, holding out her hand. "I forgive you."

"Really?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at her. "I thought my apology wasn't good enough for you."

At this, she makes a sour face and takes her hand back. "Fine. I won't. Whatever."

"No! No, _no!_" I cry, grabbing her hand and shaking it furiously before she takes it back again. "Thank you for your kind forgiveness, Nasuada! Really! _Please _don't hate me!"

"Okay!" she exclaims, trying to pry her hand back. "O-KAY!"

When she finally has control over her arm, I sit back into my seat, smiling at her.

"Stop smiling at me," she mumbles, trying to avoid my eyes. "Seriously, Katie. Stop it. You know how I hate it when people stare at me."

Shrugging, I say, "Sorry, Nasuada. I'm just really happy."

"Yes, well you should be. I mean, I _am_ quite the cool person."

"Of _course_ you are."

- - - - - - - - - - -

Oh, how I love having lunch with Nasuada again. We had lunch for three days in a row now! Sure, I miss gobstones, but now I don't have to play it during lunch. I can play it during work, and still get paid, because apparantly, that's what being in our deparment is like! Can you say awesome? I know. So now, I have new friends, Nasuada, and a lunchtime companion! And within these three days, Nasuada and I have put everyting behind us, and started over again. Well, not start over, we just picked up from where we left off.

And Jameson has been bugging me about Maurie. Yep, he's finally decided to come for my help. Talk about obessession. Every other fucking second, he's there in front of my face, asking whether or not I've told Maurie about him yet. Or what colour she likes. Or what her favourite dish is. Oh my goodness. He's _such_ a -

_No_, be positive. Breathe. _Breathe._

I think I forgot to mention that for the past three days, Nasuada's making me change myself around, full circle. I'm not allowed to swear out loud. Come on - _everyone _does that! She doesn't mind the occasional slip, but she says I shouldn't do it often. Oh, and I have to hold my temper. And be nice to those I hate.

In other words, kill them with kindness.

Like _that_ works.

So for three days, I've been holding my breath, taking breathing breaks, and calming myself down before getting _too_ angry. And I've decided to keep my mouth shut about certain things. And seriously - it's not as easy as it seems! It's really quite hard.

At the moment, it's my afternoon break, and I'm sitting in my cubicle with Nasuada. I don't understand why we can't sit in her office. But I wouldn't want to be down there anyway. It's so... _rude_ down there. I don't blame her for liking my department.

"And so he keeps coming over here like, _every_ five minutes! It's starting to get _really_ annoying!

"_Breathe,_ Katie. No need to be so worked up over something so small."

"But - "

"_Breathe! _And besides, Jason is such a nice guy, why do you hate him so much?"

Grumbling to myself, I take a few deep breaths before continuing. "It's not that I _hate_ him! Okay, fine, I do. But how would you like it if someone keeps coming over here?"

"He hasn't been here at all," Nasuada comments, looking around us. "It's been a quiet break."

"Don't fret - he'll be here any second."

"You're being very - "

"No I'm not!"

"Watch your temper there."

Oh just shut up.

_'Watch your temper'_, _'Deep breaths'_, _'Calm yourself'_, OH - MY - GOD! If I hear those three friggin phrases any more - or something that means the same, whatever - I will freak out! I _will _freak out! Seriously, as if this isn't hard enough, she's annoying me with her stupid... I don't know, _zen _attitude?

"Here," she says, suddenly reaching into her purse, and taking out these weird stick things. "I got these for you."

Giving her a weird look, I take the packet of sticks she hands to me. "Oh, uh... thanks."

"It's _incense,_ silly!" she laughs, making me feel even more stupid. "You know what incense is, right?"

"Of _course_ I do!" I snap, giving her an annoyed look. "It's suppossed to stink."

"_Not_ stink, but _enlighten_ your senses. I got them at the apothecary."

"Since when does the apothecary sell incense?"

"They've sold them for as long as I've been there. Anyway, I got _Pixi Pewter_ for you."

"I'm sorry, _what?_"

"_Pixi Pewter_ is the _scent!_ It's a calming smell, to help you smooth out your stress."

"Odd, I always thought pixies were quite the little bright buggers, not soothing ones."

"Well, it's the _scent!_ So _stop_ complaining!" she says, rolling her eyes at me.

"Temper, Nasuada. Temper," I say idly, smiling. Hey - I will take any chance I can to get back at her.

"Really, Katie, you - "

"Did you tell her yet?"

At the doorway stands Jason; he has just interrupted Nasuada. Good timing, Jason. You're saving me a stupid lecture. Looking startled, Nasuada turns around, and spots him, finally turning back to me with a surprised face. In response, I shrug at her.

"_Well?_" he demands, stepping into the cubicle and wringing his hands. "Have you?"

I give him a considering look, running my finger along my desk, stalling for time. Glancing up at him, I give an annoying giggle, which makes him turn red.

"Sorry, Bell, I'm not interested in _you,_" he says, giving me a distasteful look.

"_What!_" I exclaim, clutching my chest. "Why would you think I'm flirting with _you?_ It would be a _felony_ if I ever did such a thing!"

He rolls his eyes at me. "Are you going to answer my question?"

"Come on, Jason. I think you know the answer."

"You have?"

"No."

"Have you even _talked_ with her?"

"Is he talking about that Maurie girl?" Nasuada whispers to me, taking peeks at Jason.

"Yeah," I answer offhandedly. "Ah well. Don't worry, Jason. I _will_ talk to her. Soon time."

"And when exactly is _soon time?_" he asks, eyes narrowing at me.

"Oh, I don't know... soon."

"When?"

"Sorry, Jameson. I can't predict the future. You should ask Nasuada for that. I heard she was Trelawny's favourite."

"Oh, shut up!" Nasuada says, giving me a small slap on the shoulder, though looking obviously pleased with herself. "It's not _my_ fault I had some sight."

"Yeah, okay," I say, shaking my head at her. "Trelawny was too doped up to notice that you weren't even there half the time anyway."

"I had to study for Potions!" she cries indignantly. "Besides, Slughorn said I had promise."

"Says the girl who works in the _Floo _Department."

"Oh... go eat yourself."

"Will do," I say, giving her a toothy smile. "Anyway, back to you, Jason. What were you saying again?"

He gives me an incredelous look. "I think you remember what we were discussing."

"Sorry, but it's slipped my mind."

"No it _hasn't!_ You're doing this on purpose - "

"Are you accusing me of being a liar?"

"Yes!"

"Well then," I say crisply, smoothing out my shirt. "I think I know who I _won't_ be helping out _this_ year."

At this, his mouth opens in a gasp. "_What!_ That's not _fair!_ You're - "

"It's reactions like that which make people have assumptions on your sexuality," I comment, resting my chin on my palm.

He gives me a glare. "I'm_ not_ - "

"Gay, I _know_," I finish for him, sounding quite bored. "Don't worry - I've already passed on the word."

"Katie, all I'm asking from you is a small favour, and if you can't even help me with this, you're being really unfair," he says calmly, leaning at the opening.

"Unfair?" I exclaim, giving him an exasperated look. "_Unfair?_ All these seven years, you've treated me like dung! You always embarassed me in front of the whole office, you get me in trouble with Boister, you're always giving me the shitty assignments, you're such a - "

"Calm _down!_" Nasuada cries, pushing me down by the shoulders. "Breathe! _Breathe,_ Katie! Don't get so worked up! What's passed is passed."

Grumbling to myself, I take quick breaths, which make me sound like I'm hyperventalating. Glaring up at Nasuada, I see that she's wearing a satisfied smile. Jason, on the other hand, looks a bit shocked.

"I didn't really mean to embarass you," he says, tilting his head to the side.

"Yeah right," I mumble, resting my chin on the table.

"Okay, fine. I _did,_ but I really regret it now."

"You're only regretting it because you want to go out with Maurie."

"_Who_ wants to go out with Maurie?"

Startled, all three of us turn around at the door, to find Maurie standing there. Jameson, looking pale, jumps back, falling into Nasuada's lap.

"Who wants to go out with Maurie?" Maurie repeats, looking suspiciously at us.

"Nothing," I say, twirling a strand of hair with my finger. "Hello, Maurie. Lovely day, is it not?"

"Brilliant," she says absently mindedly, casting eyes around us all.

"Is there a problem?" I ask, sitting straight up in my chair. "I'd offer you a seat, but as you can see, two people are already sharing it." I point at Nasuada, who seems to be trying as hard as she can to breathe, while Jameson stares at Maurie in a daze.

"Oh, no, that's quite alright," she says pleseantly, smiling at me. "I actually just came over here to bring you something."

I raise an eyebrow. What could Maurie possibly have for me? "Oh?"

"Yes!" she announces, clapping her hands together. "And I think it'll make you _quite _happy!"

What could she have gotten me that would make me happy? Let's see... I like clothes, chocolate, and books. I doubt she'd give me any of those... maybe... Oh!

"You got me a set of gobstones?" I ask enthusiastically, my eyes wide.

Her brows furrow at my exclamation. "Oh, um... actually, no. It's _not_... gobstones."

"Oh," I say, sounding put out. "That's alright."

"But I've got something even better!"

Before letting me guess any longer, she disappears out of the cubicle. Oh goody! She's got me something big! I love big presents! Like this one time, where my mom got me this bicycle when I was eight! Oh man, that was the sweetest thing ever! It was pink, with a basket in the front where I could put everything in, like my dolls! I wonder if she knows what a bicycle is?

"What do you think she got you?" Nasuada asks, as she pushes Jason harshly off of her, making him land on his stomach.

"I can't believe she's _here!_" Jason hisses at us, immediately standing up and brushing himself.

I'm about to answer Nasuada until Maurie shows up again, smiling from side to side. In the next second, she drags Oliver in by the arm.

Oliver. She got me _Oliver._ _Not_ clothes. _Not_ chocolates. _Not_ books._ Not_ gobstones. But _Oliver._

"Ta-da!" she says, pushing Oliver forward into the cubicle. Well, not really forward, since there's really no space in here anyway. What with five people stuffed into it and all.

The whole place is silent. Out of the corner of my eyes, I can Nasuada looking back and forth between myself and Oliver. I can see Jason, as he still stares after Maurie. And Maurie is still looking at me with that smile on her face.

"Um... hi," Oliver says, breaking the ice. He extends his hand to me.

I glare at his hand, and then at him, not answering. He slowly takes his hand back, and leans in to whisper to Mauire. Maurie seems to ignore him, waving her hand at him, and giving him encouraging looks.

"I just... I just wanted to talk to you," he says, turning his attention back to me.

I'm not going to answer him.

"I know you're ignoring me on purpose."

No I'm not.

"But that's okay," he says brightly, bringing his hands together. "It's really alright. Because I'm not going to move from this spot until you finally have a nice talk with me."

"No you're not," I scoff, coming out my silence. "No one's dumb enough to do _that._"

"Well, sorry, Katie. Not everyone's as bright as you. Anyway, I'm just going to stand here all day. And all night. Even when they shut this place down for the evening, I'm just going to stand here, until you come back in the morning. And I'll just be here, staring at you, until you finally crack and talk to me."

"In case you haven't noticed, Oliver, you can't stand here all the time. You'll need to go to the washroom, and you'll need to eat."

"Oh, I've got that all worked out. See, I'm pretty good at charms and transfiguration. I'll just change random objects in this building to accustom to my appetite."

"And how will you go the the washroom?"

"I'll just... change your desk into a loo."

"Yeah, okay," I say, holding my hands up. "I've got the rest of the day. I'm just going to stare at you while you stand there."

"Fine with me," he answers, finding a suitable spot on the floor to stand on. "You're going to crack though."

"No I'm not."

"We'll see."

Oh great. Now it's a competition! _Damnit!_ Why does Oliver have to know me so well? He _knows_ I can't do this whole stare-off thing! Why is it that _I'm_ always the one who cracks?

"Er, Katie," Nasuada says, giving me an odd look. "You _do_ know that... you know, nevermind."

With that, she turns towards Maurie and sticks out her hand, "Nasuada Keele, Floo Department."

Taking Nasuada's hand, Maurie says, "Maurie Maravilla, Manager of Wayland Wizarding and Warlock Wear."

"Hey!" Nasuada exclaims, looking surprised at Maurie. "My dad shops there! I didn't know you were in management."

"Oh, it's my father's own shop," Maurie tells her, shrugging. "His name's Wayland. But I guess you knew that, what with the name of the shop and all."

As the two begin to talk to each other, I continue to glare at the figure standing in front of me. Instead of being angry, he looks quite happy. I don't know _what_ he's so happy about. Why on earth would he be happy, standing in a cramped cubicle with a sour person in front of him?

"Oh!" Nasuada says, gesturing over to Jason. "This is Jason Jameson."

Maurie's attention is diverted to Jameson, who suddenly snaps out of his phaze, with a blush creeping up his face.

"You've met him the last time you were here," I supply, smiling at Maurie. "You know, the guy who just barged in our conversation?"

Jason narrows his eyes at me, mouthing the words 'traitor'. In return, I smile at him.

"Anyway," I continue, ignoring Jason, "Jason is actually quite the worker you know. He's my partner. Very reliable, dependable, loyal, and witty. Has a good sense of fashion, can take jokes - _sometimes_ - and well, he's just a... very..."

I glance over at Jameson, who's appearance totally chagned once I started complimenting him. Now he's giving me urging looks. What am I suppossed to say? _Nice?_ We _all _know he's _not _the nicest person in the world.

"He's just a very... _secure_ person," I finish, folding my hands onto my lap.

I can see Maurie tilt her head, examining Jason. And I can that even Oliver's attention is at Jameson; he looks as surprised as I feel. Nasuada is leaning her chin against her hand, smiling a knowing smile at Jameson.

"I _knew_ he wasn't gay," Nasuada murmurs absent mindedly.

And just like that, Maurie's expression changes. "_What?_"

"_What?_" cries Jason, his eyes bulging at Nasuada. Oliver is shaking with silent laughter. I don't know what I should be. I mean, I know he's not gay. It's not really that funny anymore. Okay, fine, it still is. But I'm just not laughing.

Nasuada's face flushes, as she looks around at all of us. "Merlin, did I just say that out _loud?_"

"_Kind of,_" Jason says sarcastically, his hands shaking, as if he wants to strangle her. He turns to Maurie. "I'm not! Really!"

"Uh... sure," Maurie says. Nodding slowly at him. "Sure."

"Really! I'm _not!_ Just ask Katie!"

"I already said I believed you," she tells him, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, you don't seem gay to me."

"Are you _kidding_ me?" Oliver exclaims, clutching his head and shaking it. "_Jason Jameson?_ He's is _the_ gayest - "

"That's _enough,_ Oliver," Maurie says, with a tone in her voice. Oliver quickly shuts up and turns his head back towards my direction.

"Anyway," Nasuada says, slowly getting out of the chair. "I should report back to work now. Well, I'm actually quite late. And I'm sorry about that, Jason. Won't ever happen again. It was good to meet you, Maurie. We should meet up and continue our talk about the Elven Revolution. Seems quite interesting."

With that, Nasuada gives me a small smile, a nod at Oliver, a hand shake to Maurie, and a pat on the head for Jason. Jason seems to have made some sort of noise, as he glares at her back.

Nasuada's gone. Wonderful. Now we're one number less and I will crack even sooner.

"Um... Maurie," Jason says, scratching his head and looking at his feet. "Would you... would you care to have tea with me...?"

"Right now?" she asks, smiling at him. "Sure! Why not? Besides, we should really give these two some space."

She links her arm through Jason's and gives me a cheery wave, as they both disappear out of the cubicle.

This is brilliant. Just brilliant! I'm stuck in this bloody cubicle with a stupid nutter who should have bat bogey shoved up his ass!

"So, Katie," Oliver says, crossing his arms, shifting his weight from side to side.

"Oliver," I say, giving him a small nod. I retreat to my parchment, trying to ignore his presence.

Let's see... I have a report on which broomsticks should be retired. What? Why would they retire broomsticks? And which broomsticks were they planning on retiring? Holy horse! They want to retire the Star Fire Guster? No way! Come on, that is such a pretty broom!

"Pretending that I'm not here isn't going to help you," Oliver says, interrupting my thoughts.

Scrunching up my face in an annoyed look, I calmly take a breath, and say to him without looking up. "I'm _not_ pretending."

"_Really?_ Oh, alright. I must be wrong then."

"Must be."

"Katie, why won't you just talk to me?"

"Because I don't want to."

"You do know that you're talking to me now, don't you?"

"Yes, but that's different."

"How?"

"Because, this is just casual talking, it doesn't count - " Before I can continue, I stop myself and glare at him. "_Hey!_ I know what you're doing. You're just trying to turn this casual talk into a conversation! Well, it's not going to work."

"It seems as though it is," he says, shrugging and smiling at me.

"Oh, you think you're _so_ charming."

"Of course I do. So do many others."

"Your cocky-I'm-too-good-for-you-but-I'll-still-talk-to-you attitude is really starting to piss me off."

"Funny, I thought it had a long time ago. It's nice to know you liked me."

"Key word; _liked_."

"You know, your stubborn-I'm-not-going-to-talk-to-you-because-I-think-I'm-too-cool attitude isn't any better."

"I _don't_ have an attitude!" I cry, slamming my quill down, trying to make an affect.

"Your sassy outbursts aren't going to affect me," he says, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Why won't you just leave me alone? You were so good at it before!"

"As long as I know you don't hate me, I'll leave you alone."

Damnit! I never win with this guy!

Scrunching up a piece of spare parchment, I chuck it at him, and pull my head down to concentrate on my report. Okay, back to the broomstick report. Why do they want to retire the broomstick? Why do they always have to pick the good ones? Why can't I concentrate? And why do I let him distract me?

"I'm quite good-looking, aren't I?" he comments, crossing his arms. "Maybe that's why you can't concentrate. Maybe that's why you keep stealing glances at me."

"As_ if!_" I grab my quill, and get ready to throw them at him like darts.

"Incase you've forgotten, I _am_ a Keeper. I know how to block things."

"Oh, just shut up!" I yell, throwing the whole bundle at him. All he needs to do is whip out his wand and flick, turning them into dust.

"Okay, quit the fun and games," he says sarcastically, taking a seat in front of me. "Can we just be mature and talk this whole thing out?"

Aha! He caved! He _caved!_ Before _me!_

"I win!" I state triumphantly, throwing my piece of parchment down on the table. "You moved! You were suppossed to stand there all day and night! But you didn't! So I win! Now get out of my cubicle!"

"What?" he cries, holding up a hand. "That wasn't even part of the compromise!"

"I don't _care!_ Get out, get out, _get out!_"

"No can do, Katie-roo."

"Now!"

"No!"

"_Go!_"

"_No!_" He yells, taking out his wand again, and muttering an enchantment. He points his wand at the entrance of the cubicle. Immediately following his wand, some sort of translucent blue thing is blocking the entrance.

"What did you _do?_" I scream, running over to the entrance. I try to walk out, but some sort of solid force slams me back down to the floor. "_Oliver!_"

"It's a blocker," he tells me, helping me up. I shrug him off, standing up by myself.

"Care to explain?" I hiss, brushing myself.

"No one can get in, no one can get out. No one can hear us, and we can't hear anybody."

"And how the hell are you suppossed to break this?"

"I'm not telling you until we have a talk."

"Really? Then I'm just going to have to try every enchantment."

"Be my guest," he says casually, leaning on his hand. "Even if you do get the correct one, you need my wand to undo it anyway."

I hate him! I really really really _hate_ him! Squeezing my fists into balls, I remember what Nasuada taught me in these three days about being calm, relaxed, and less easy to anger. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Maybe I should ignite some of the incense she gave me. Whatever it takes to keep me from murdering this sick son of a bitch.

Oh dear. I seem to have said a crass word. Ehh, it doesn't matter. As long as Nasuada doesn't find out.

"Ugh!" I can't take this anymore. I refuse to stay in this tiny cubicle all night. And I refuse to turn my desk into a toilet and piss in front of him!

"Are you going to talk to me now?" he asks, smiling, sitting upright in the chair.

"No! You wanted to talk to me! So _you_ have to start!"

"Even better. I'm sorry."

I look at him, thinking he'd continue... but, nope. He just stops there.

"Is that _it?_" I ask, after a few minutes of silence. "Are you finished?"

"Well, I need to know if you'd forgive me before I can go on," he responds, looking at me indifferently.

"What are you sorry _for?_ You never exactly explained."

"I'm sorry for calling you," he says, leaning forwards. He whipsers the last word; "the_ b-word_."

I roll my eyes at him. "No one can hear you, Oliver. You said so yourself."

"I just didn't want to say it outloud. Might offend you again."

"You make it sound like the littlest things can get to me."

"Am I wrong?"

I'm about to say 'yes', but I catch myself. You know, now that I think of it, the littlest things do sometimes get to me. And I wonder why. I wonder if that's what Nasuada means too... am I really that... _emotional?_

Good god, I feel so pathetic.

"No..." I say, letting out a slow breath. "No, you're not wrong." I slump down in my chair, burying my face in my arms.

"Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay."

"Wow. This is the very first time a girl actually _admitted_ that she's not okay."

Lifting my head up, I glare at him. "Why are you still here?"

"Because we're not finished," he says simply, tilting his head.

"Well, you said you're sorry. Seems to me likes it's finished."

"You never said whether or not you'd forgive me."

Nasuada says I need to learn to be more forgiving.

But why should I forgive him? He's the one who called me the _'b-word'_. He's the one who scarred me. I will be forever vulnerable.

And there kicks my emotional instincts once more. Maybe I _am_ too emotional.

"Oliver, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he replies, leaning forward. "What?"

"Why do you want my forgiveness?" I ask, peering at him closely. "What is it about me forgiving you? Is my forgiving you just _that _important?"

"Yes," he says, shrugging, and giving me an odd look.

"Why?"

"I don't like it when people are mad at me. Even for the smallest things. Even if I don't know them that well. I feel unsettled."

So Angelina was right. He can't live with himself if someone's mad at them.

"Also," he adds, holding up a finger," I absolutely can't stand it especially if my friends are mad at me. It just doesn't feel right. You know?"

"Yes," I admit, thinking of Nasuada. "That's true."

"Besides, you're my friend, Katie. And I like you. I don't fancy having people I like mad at me."

"That's quite interesting."

"Isn't it? Anyway, I'm really sorry for hurting your feelings. Seriously. Didn't know it would have such an impact from you. If it makes you feel any better, after this talk, I'll refrain from talking to you. Ever."

"That sounds nice."

Immediately, he has a shocked face on. "I was just kidding about that one!"

"I _know,_ Oliver," I say, rolling my eyes at him. "Well, carry on."

"I'm _so_ sorry. I'm not too great on apologies. Usually, people apologize to _me._"

"Gee, _that_ must be rough," I say tonelessly, biting my tongue from saying more.

"Honestly, Katie. Don't _hate_ me. I really didn't mean it. But what the hell was wrong with you that day?"

"Nothing," I say, shrugging.

"I know there's something."

"There is nothing."

"Just tell me."

"No."

"Why not?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"I'm a very understanding sort of guy."

"Whatever."

"Really, Katie," he says, taking on a serious tone. "What was wrong that day?"

I narrow my eyes at him, considering whether or not to tell him. Should I? But then, what if he thinks I'm being stupid? Because now that I recap on why I was mad, it sounds a bit stupid to me...

"My arms," I say, holding out my arms. "Are still not fully healed."

"Is that all?"

"My head still has that bump, which I think will be permanently there."

"Ah, yes, I forgot about that one..."

"I get yelled at for playing the game _properly!_"

"Katie, you _deliberately_ hit Maurie - "

"I'm _suppossed_ to! Don't you _know_ that? You're a _professional!_ What is the job of the beater? Huh?"

"To... aim at members of the opposing teams," he says, shifting around uncomfortably in the chair.

"_Exactly!_ And _still _you yelled at me! You took _her_ side! She scratched my arms, she fouled me, and _still_ you take her side!"

He smiles slyly at me. "Were you jealous?"

"_No!_" I cry, grabbing my head in frustration. "You took her side! _I_ was right! Why didn't anyone take _my_ side? I played correctly, and what do _I_ get? Bloody arms, bumped on the head, and called a friggin bitch! It's a conspiracy!"

"You have to understand," he says, rubbing his head, "that I was trying to help Maurie. She wanted me to help her get a good impression on - "

"George! I _know_ that already! But you didn't have to go _yell _at me for doing absolutely _nothing!_"

"Is that why you're mad?"

"Of course that's why I'm mad! Are you that thick to know, or did you just have too many romps on the field?"

"I've had my fair amount of romps," he says, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

"_Ew!_" I exclaim, scrunching up my face. "Don't tell me! I don't want to know about your sex life!"

"I was just kidding," he says, rolling his eyes at me. "I can't just have a nice roll in the field anyway. The press would have pictures taken of me. Besides, my fans are a bit too crazy to romp with."

"Could you_ be_ any more arrogant?"

"Oh, actually, I can. But I'm trying this new thing, where I'm not too much of a dick. I heard I'm a real pisser when I am."

"_Nooo,_" I say, shaking my head. "You think?"

"Anyway, now that I know why you're mad," he says, leaning back into his chair. "I guess I can apologize more clearly."

"I guess you can."

"I'm sorry for not taking your side. And yes, you did play the game correctly."

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry on behalf of Maurie for your arms."

"She already apologized, but thank you."

"I'm sorry for the bump on your head. I tried to kill Fred for you, but Angelina wouldn't let me."

"It's a nice gesture, I suppose."

"And I'm really, really, _reeeaaaally_ sorry for calling you the _b-word_. Really. Seriously. Sincerely."

A few minutes pass by as I rest my chin on my hands, staring at my desk, thinking about what he said. He apologized for everything. But somehow, I just don't think it's enough. But Nasuada says I should be more positive. Be more bright. Be more... right. Whatever the hell that means.

"Are we still good?" Oliver asks, his voice small and unsure, looking at me with his head ducked.

"I don't know," I sigh, rubbing my temples together. "Maybe."

"_Maybe?_"

"Maybe."

"Can't you just give a cetain answer?"

"I don't know, Oliver! I mean, sure, your apology was nice and all, but... it seems so... unfinished."

"_Unfinished?_"

"Like there's suppossed to be something more to it."

"I'll be your slave," he offers, with his big eyes. "I'll cook for you! Clean for you! I know you have three pets. I'll look after tham for you. And every day, after work, I'll be at your beck and call - "

"No, that's quite alright," I say, chuckling to myself a bit.

"But you're still mad at me."

"A bit, yes."

"Don't be mad at me," he says, putting on that pout from oh-so-long ago. With his jutted out bottom lip. He's missing the baby owl, but it still looks so... pathetic.

"Don't look at me like that," I say, trying to avoid him.

He's still making that face. His bottom lip is quivering even more.

"_Stop_ it."

And quivering even more.

"I _said_ stop."

And more.

"Okay, _fine!_" I cry exasperately. "I give up! I forgive you! Now will you quit making that face?"

"Are you really forgiving me?" he asks, eyes narrowing at me.

"Yes!"

"Honestly?"

"Hand on heart!"

"Really?"

"Don't you go pissing me off again, Oliver,"I say, pointing an accusing finger at him.

He smiles at me. "Thank you, Katie. You have no idea how much your forgiveness means to me."

Shrugging, I give him a small smile in return. After a few awkward moments, he sighs, and takes out his wand, pointing at the entrance.

"I guess it's time to take off the barrier."

"Of course," I say, leaning back in my chair. What an unsual day.

I hear him mutter a spell, and just like that, my door is barrier free once more. I can hear the sound of pattering feet across the floor, random explosions from various games, the squelching of the gobstone liquid, and faint whoosh noises of random broomsticks hovering about.

"Have a nice day, Katie," Oliver suddenly says, taking me out of my listening trance. "It's very nice to know we're back in good terms."

I'm about to answer him, but he abruptly gets out of the chair and walks away, out of my cubicle.

Okay, what the hell?

Scrambling out of my chair, I hurry to the entrance and call out for him.

"_Oliver!_ Where are you going? Come back!"

He turns around, giving me an odd look. "Why?"

"Come back! I don't want to yell!"

Raising a brow at me, he walks back into the cubicle, standing in front of me. "Yes?"

"What the hell was _that?_"

"What the hell was what?"

"You!" I exclaim, holding up a hand. "And... walking away."

"Well," he says, scratching his head, looking confused. "You told me to leave you alone and go away. And I said I would do just that once you've forgiven me..."

I give a small groan, rolling my eyes at him. "I don't want you to go _now!_"

"You dont?"

"I only said that because I was mad at you, dumbass! Im' not mad at you anymore. You can stay."

"Really? I thought you actually wanted me to leave for good."

"Well, I _did._ But not now."

"Oh," he says, smiling brightly at me. "But I really do have to go. I'm expected to be at practice in ten minutes."

This guy is unbelievable.

"Anyway, since you want to see me again, I guess I'll see you later!" he calls, as I realize just now that he's strolling out of my cubicle and waving at me.

"Bye," I say softly, more to myself than to him.

When people say women are hard to understand, I totally disagree. Men are the unusual ones. But they do come from Mars afterall. I just don't get them. So technically, the saying should be men are hard to understand. Not women.

Or maybe it's just Oliver.

* * *

**a/n:** i just realized that some of you might have trouble pronouncing some names. and so, being such a considerable person, i've decided to give you a pronunciation guide: 

Nasuada : Nah-sway-duh  
Maurie : More-ree  
Katie : Kay-tee  
Oliver : Oll-lih-ver  
Fred : Frrr-red  
George : Gee-orge  
Angelina : An-gel-eee-nah  
Alicia : A-lee-see-uh  
Lee : Lee  
Ginny : Jin-ee  
Harry : Hare-ree  
Ron: Ron  
Hermione : Her-my-oh-nee  
Charlie : Char-lee  
Antonin: An-toe-nin (French)  
Jean : Shh-on (French)  
Fleur : Fff-lee-urrr (French)  
Jeffrey : Jeff-ree  
Aurelia : Or-ray-lee-uh  
Remus Lupin : Ree-miss Loo-pin

so there you are, the pronunciation guide.

and for the reviews, ok, fine. you don't have to give in _long_ reviews. but seriously people - no one or two liners, okay? because they're boring. elaborate! tell me _why_ you like the story. why you _didn't_ like it. what you like or dislike about it. your view points, what you predict. whatever! just make it interesting.

thaaaaaaaaanks

**review!**


	12. Confessions of a Keeper

**a/n:** yes, i'm back. and no, this story isn't over. i assure you on that one. i'll let you know when it's the last chapter.

i do, however, apologize for the lateness of this chapter. you see, i was pretty busy. what with five culminating activities to be completed, i didn't exactly have time. and when i did have time, i used it to write. i wrote this chapter 3 times. and each chapter was different. the first one went smoothly during the begining, but once i got to the middle, i just couldn't find a way to continue it. the second time i tried, it was just too boring. so, finally, i wrote this chapter.

i'm not too sure if you'll like it, since i didn't exactly have too much time. but i hope you guys will like it, since it's going 'forwards'. well, in my opinion at least. enjoy!

* * *

Ah, the wonderful bliss of Fred and George's outdoor party.

I know what you're thinking. _Another_ one? Oh yeah.

Apparantly, they've managed to reach their one-hundred-thousand-galleon goal. Yup. All that gold from a mere joke shop. But not just any joke shop - no, not the one at Diagon Alley. They've long made that much with _that_ store. They just opened a store near Brew Village, which I shall say, is doing quite well. Quite impressive actually, since it's only been open for about two months. It's their newest addition to their chain.

But the thing I don't understand is, why host an outdoor party in the middle of November? I mean, yeah, sure, the sky's clear and the sun's bright, but really. It's freezing, the wind chill seems to be going up every other minute, and well, it's November! _No one_ in their right minds hosts outdoor parties in mid-November! It's winter, for Merlin's sake!

And once again, a whole crowd of people are here; the whole entire Weasley clan - minus Charlie who's back in Romania, and Percy, wherever he is. Some of Fred and George's friends who keep staring over at me, which is highly uncomfortable, yet flattering. Don't you ever get that feeling? Like you're pleased wth something, or someone, but you really find it disturbing and want it to stop? Well, yeah, that's it right now.

Anyway, I can see Maurie talking with George, arm in arm with Jameson. Can you say wow? I never really thought she'd continue on a relationship with him since he's so gay, but..._ there you go._ Oddly enough, I don't see Alicia with George, but I've just found her on the otherside of the party, seemingly flirting with some guy. I wonder what's up with that. Ah well. There's Fred entertaining Jean and Antonin, while Angelina's talking with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Golly. She's sure gotten bigger. Last month, you couldn't really notice her bulge, but now - she's huge! I wonder what it's like to be carrying around all that weight in your uterus. Anyway, I've made a mental note to stay away form her; even if she is one of my best friends, pregnant women still scare me. They can suddenly go into crucial bitch mode. Who knows.

So there's Fleur, who had given birth, holding her daughter, Clementine. Clementine looks just like her mother; big blue eyes, silvery-blonde hair, round face. Isn't she lucky, to inherit such beauty. Oh, and there's Jeffrey, walking beside Fleur, jabbering his little mouth away. His parents are talking with Ron and Hermione, who's son seems to be in the arms of Lupin.

And where exactly am I? Once again, in a place where I cannot be found. Not that I don't like these people. I do, don't get me wrong. I just like peace and quiet. And I don't want Fred or George pranking me later on.

The earlier part of November has been such a drag. Granted, Jason isn't as mean to me anymore, but he's still such a pisser. And big suck up. And a gigantic dick. And sometimes, _really annoying_. Like how he'd ask me things about Maurie such as _'Do you think she'dlike lilies if I went out to get her some?'_ or _'In your opinion, would you rather have a single red rose, or a dozen?'_ or _'Should I get her the candy or the shoes?'_

Now, I have nothing against Jason Jameson. Not _much _anyway. But really; he needs to stop pestering me about these dumb questions. It's bad enough that I have to sit there and answer him every day, but _hello!_ Single woman, _right here!_ Stupid Maurie. She gets a guy to give her such lovely flowers, candies, and shoes! While I get nothing. Sure, I'd rather be single than be with Jason, but still! It's not fair. Sometimes, even though I don't like him too much, I wish I had a Jameson at my beck and call.

Oh my god. You know you're truly sad and pathetic when you want Jason Jameson in your company.

"Hi Auntie Katie!"

Tearing myself away from my disturbing thoughts, I find Jean and Antonin in front of me, all smiles. With jam smeared across their mouths.

"What are you doing, Auntie Katie?"

"Are you bored, Auntie Katie?"

"Auntie Katie, can you summersault? Because I can!"

"Hey Auntie Katie, did you know that Jean knocked over the pumpkin juice before?"

"Shettup Antonin! Auntie Katie, watch this!"

Wow. Out of nowhere, I'm bombarded with two little boys. And it's weird, because there's only two of them, yet it feels like a crowd.

"You guys do know," I tell them, smiling brightly, "that you've got jam all over your faces?"

"Oh, yeah!" Jean answers, seeming not to care. "I've got grape. Antonin's got strawberry. I like grape though - it tastes better."

"No it doesn't!" Antonin argues, rolling his eyes at his brother. "Everyone else likes strawberry, so that means it's the better jam!"

"No it's not! Auntie Ginny likes grape."

"Uncle Harry likes strawberry. And so does Uncle Ron!"

"Well - "

"That's enough," I laugh, taking a napkin from the table I'm sitting at, and pulling Antonin to me. As he squeals to get out of my grasp, I wipe his face for him, making it immediately clean. After letting go, I grab his brother to do the same.

"Thank you, Auntie Katie," they say in unison, smiling toothily at me.

"You're very wel - "

"Why are you alone?" Jean asks, as he and his brother pull out chairs to sit with me. "Everyone's over there!"

"Sometimes, I like being alone," I answer, shrugging at them.

"Do want us to go away?" Antonin asks, tilting his head at me. "Sometimes, when Papa wants to be left alone, he says _'go away and find your Mama'._ When Mama's not there, he says _'go away'_. And then we go away."

I give them a weird, look, not really understanding what was just said to me. "No, it's alright. You can stay; I enjoy your company."

"Really?" Jean exclaims, his face glowing. "I like your company too, Auntie Katie! I like you most of all my aunts."

Well, ain't that just the sweetest thing. "You do know that I'm not really your aunt?"

"Oh, we know," Antonin answers, nodding at me. "It's just that, all of our other aunts are so busy. Like Auntie Ginny. I like her too, because she's fun, but she always seems so busy. And Auntie Hermione always seems to be reading or writing. Sometimes, I have a feeling that when she's playing with us, she's trying to trick us into learning something. Papa says not to bother Auntie Angelina because she's pregnant, and pregnant ladies can't take too much. I'm not really sure what that means."

"And you forgot Auntie Tonks!" Jean says, holding up his index finger. "But we hardly ever see her."

"So what is it about me that makes me special?" I ask them, leaning my chin on my hand. "I'm quite interested."

"Because," Antonin says, rolling his eyes at me. "You're fun! And you don't lie. All the other grown-ups always tell us lies like '_eating carrots can make you jump as well as a rabbit'._"

"Or," Jean adds, "when Uncle Ron said that raisins were dried up doxy dung, and if we eat them, we'll be as clever as a doxy."

"_See?_ That's why we like you. You tell the truth! And you always take time to talk with us, unlike the other adults. They don't take us seriously. And they think we don't understand things, when we really do. And because you're funny."

Isn't that touching. "Awww, you guys. I like you two very much as well."

"Are we your favourite?"

"Don't tell anyone you are."

"What about Jeffrey?" Jean questions, looking at me. "We like Jeffrey. He's our favourite cousin. But he's the only boy cousin."

"What about your other cousin?" I ask, furrowing my brow. "The baby boy... Hermione's his mother, but I'm not too sure of his name."

"Oh, you mean Kaleb," Antonin replies, waving his hand. "He can't even talk yet. When he does, we'll see."

"So do you like Jeffrey?" Jean asks, looking around for his cousin.

"I like Jeffrey very much."

"More than us?"

"I like the three of you equally."

"Hi Auntie Katie!"

I turn around, as I hear my name, to find Jeffrey, who's holding a candy apple in his hand.

"Well, hello Jeffrey," I say, pulling out a chair for him. "Care to join us?"

He looks around at the three of us, as if considering whether or not to join. "_Really?_"

"Of course," Jean says, patting the chair for Jeffrey. "Sit Jeffrey. This is the fun table."

Yeah, this is the fun table. No - honestly! It really is. I'm quite enjoying their company. Sometimes, talking to little kids, you get more out of it than talking with the grown-ups who apparantly, tell lies.

_Apparantly._

"Auntie katie, why are you alone?" Jeffrey asks, struggling to get himself into the chair since he's so short.

Seeing as he can't get up the chair, I pick him up and plop him down. "I'm not alone - I'm with you three."

"But why are you here? Don't gown-ups talk to gown-ups?"

_Gownups?_ Ah yes, he has difficulty pronouncing his r's.

I shurg. "I just felt like being here, talking with you."

"Where's Uncle Oliver?"

This question has caught me by surprise. I haven't exactly seen Oliver around. Actually, I haven't really spoken to him except for once, after our whole episode.

"I'm not sure," I say, looking around, running my eyes over the crowd. "I'm sure he'll show up soon though."

"I hope so," Jean says, nodding over to the group of men that were staring at me previously. "Maybe Uncle Oliver can stop those men from looking at us."

"They're not looking at _us,_ stupid!" Antonin says, rolling his eyes at his brother. "They're staring at Auntie Katie!"

"Why?" Jeffrey asks, taking a bite out of his apple.

"Because," Antonin answers, turning away from the men. "Maybe they like her."

"I like Auntie Katie," Jeffrey replies, looking bewildered. "Will Uncle Oliver get mad at me too?"

"No, that's different, Jeffrey," Jean says, patting his counsin on the back. "You like Auntie Katie because she's fun and nice. Those ugly men like Auntie Katie because they're in love with her."

In _love_ with me. Oh, the way kids think.

"What happens if they love Auntie Katie?" Jeffrey asks, now looking horrified, his mouth coated with sugar.

"If they love her," Antonin says, pulling his chair close, "then they'll steal her away from us. It's like how Aurelia stole Uncle Charlie from us."

Hearing, this, I laugh out loud in my seat. "Aurelia didn't _steal_ Charlie away. Love is beautiful. You'll understand when you get older."

"Oh _no,_" Jean whispers to his brother and cousin. "She's doing that thing which grown-ups do; think we don't understand."

"Really, you guys," I say, shaking my head, "I promise you that Aurelia hasn't stolen your Uncle Charlie. And I promise that I won't let these men steal me too."

"Aw, it's alright if those men steal you," Antonin tells me, waving his hand.

"Oh, gee thanks."

"No, really. Uncle Oliver's strong. All he needs to do is hit them, because he's a quidditch player."

"Honestly, you three; I'm not even interested in those men over there," I say, smiling at them.

"That's what they all say," Jean hisses at Antonin.

I love these kids. I really do. Not only are they fun to talk to, but sometimes, I feel more confidant in trusting them than I do with other people. They're so innocent, and so honest.

"Excuse me, miss?"

I scrunch my face into a confused one, looking at the kids. They seem to not be looking at me, but looking silently to something that seems to be behind me. Turning slowly around, I see that one of the men have escaped his group and come over, with a brilliant smile plastered on his face.

"Yes?" I ask slowly, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I'm sorry," he says, giving me a grin. "I couldn't help coming over here. When I saw you, you looked so beautiful that I just had to come over and talk to you."

Oh, _please._ That's the dumbest line ever.

"Auntie Hermione says that men who say such things to women are men who end up _alone,_" Antonin says, glaring up at the man.

Immediately, the man's eyes flash over to Antonin. "And who might you be, little boy?"

"I'm_ not_ little! I'm _six_ years old!"

"Pretty little to me."

"Go away, you're not welcome here - "

"Antonin!" I exclaim, raising both brows at him. "Don't be rude to strangers - "

"But he might steal you away!" Jeffrey cires, as Antonin nods in agreement.

"I'm sorry about that," I say, turning back to the man. "But they're really great kids."

"We really are," Jean adds, staring at the man. "And you interrupted our conversation."

"I'm sure whatever she has to say to you can be said later," he replies, sneering at Jean.

Well, that's not very nice of the man.

"I'm sorry," I tell him, my face impassive. "And you are...?"

Once more, his smile is back on. He holds out his hand. "I'm Edmund. I know Fred and George from work."

"I thought Fred and George only had a helper girl in their store."

"Oh, we're actually partners. I send him things to help with their products, this and that."

"_Ahh..._" I'm about to shake his hand, but out of nowhere, all three of the boys block me by standing in front of me.

"Auntie Katie is _not_ for you!"

"She doesn't talk to strangers!"

"_Don't take her away from me!_"

Looking highly annoyed, Edmund peers at them closely. "It would be smart to run away before I get you," he says quietly, smiling an evil smile. The boys, looking fearful for their lives, dash off quickly, with Jean and Antonin pulling little Jeffrey behind them.

I give him a blank stare. "You had no right to scare those kids."

"Kids will be kids," he shrugs, waving his hand in the air. "They'll forget about it in two minutes anyway. Besides, it's not as though they take things seriously. They're just _kids_."

"They're _not_ only kids, but they're intelligent kids. And you'd be surprised to know that they do remember things, and that they do take things seriously. It's the adults who don't take things seriously."

"Relax there, girlie! They're just kids!"

"Well, you shouldn't have scared them away! And they're right, you _did _interrupt our conversation."

"Whatever that conversation was, I'm sure it's not important," he says, looking at me as if I were crazy. He takes a seat in front of me.

"It seemed much more worthwhile than this conversation," I reply dully, not looking at him. "I can't even see where _this_ one's going."

"Well then, let's start over. My name is Edmund Corrado. What's yours, miss?"

"Katie Bell."

"That's a lovely name."

"I know."

"What is it that you do again? It's slipped my mind."

"Actually, I never told you what I did."

"Right," he says stiffly, drumming his fingers on the table. "So where do you work?"

"I work for the Ministry," I tell him, still avoiding his eye.

"You don't like me that much, do you?"

"Not after the way you treated those kids."

"Come on, they're _just_ kid - "

"_No,_ they're _not_ just kids! And We were having a swell time before you showed up and threatened them."

"Okay, jeez, I'm sorry - "

"_There_ he is!"

I whip my head around to my right to see Jean and Antonin, glaring at Edmund and pointing at him. And they're each pulling on one of Oliver's hands. Well, at least Oliver came. And Jeffrey, for that matter, is running in front of them, coming our way.

"That's him!" Antonin cries, tugging on Oliver's hand. "He's the one who scared us!"

"Yeah, and he made Jeffrey so scared, he almost wet his pants!" Jean exclaims, letting go of Oliver and running behind to push him instead.

"He made Jeffy almost wet his pants!" Jeffrey repeats, nodding at Jean's comment.

Ehmmm... _eeeyeah._

"Just _look_ at him!" Antonin says, as they reach the table. "He's trying to steal Auntie Katie away from us!"

"And he made Jeffrey so scared, he almost wet his _pants!_" Jean cries again, shaking Oliver's arm.

"_Yeah!_" Jeffrey shouts, putting on an angry face at Edmund.

I'd laugh, but... I'm not too sure whether or not it's appropriate to do so.

"Did you threaten these kids?" Oliver asks Edmund, his eyes narrowing at him.

"Hey! I know you!" Edmund says, as his eyes light up. "You're Oliver Wood of the Wimbourne Wasps!"

"You didn't answer my question."

And just like that, Edmund's facial expression changes from delight to anger. "Yeah, I did. So?"

"Why?"

"Aw, come on. You know how little kids get."

"Actually, I _don't_ know how little kids get."

"We're _not_ little!" scream Antonin and Jean together, breathing heavily. Oliver silences them with a look.

"Dude, come _on,_" Oliver says, holding a hand up. "You don't threaten kids. You just don't."

"Well, if they weren't being such rude sh - "

I kick Edmund under the table so he wouldn't finish his last word, while Oliver lunges for all the kids and tries to cover their ears.

"You don't swear around them either," he says, shaking his head at Edmund.

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" Edmund says, rolling his eyes at Oliver. "All I wanted was to have a nice chat here with this lovely lady - "

"He's stealing her, I just _know_ it!" Jean exclaims, running over to me and holding out his arms, blocking me. "You can't take her! She's already taken!"

"Aren't you going to apologize to them?" Oliver asks, glaring at Edmund. "Because they deserve an apology."

"_Yeah!_" Jeffrey screams again, stomping his foot and then falling over. I give a small smile, but Oliver picks him up without even breaking a grin.

"You see here," Oliver tells Edmund, holding out Jeffrey to him. "This kid is only three, and you have the heart to threaten him? Could you _be_ any more cold?"

"Give it a break!" exclaims Edmund, pounding his hand on the table. Not expecting it, I make a small jerk and wince.

"Auntie Katie doesn't _want_ to talk to you," Antonin says, coming up to Edmund. "And you can't steal her away from us, even if you love her."

"Slow down there, kid, I'm not in love - "

"That's what they all say," Jeffrey murmurs, still held in the open by Oliver. "Well, that's what Jean says."

"You're in my seat," Jean says, leering at Edmund.

"You really _are _in his seat," I comment, shrugging at Edmund. He seems to look furious.

"Fine," he grumbles, getting out of the seat. "Take your damn bloody seat. But I don't think Fred _or_ George would be too happy to know the way you've treated their best partner."

"Honestly, I don't think Fred and George would be too happy to know the way you've treated their three nephews," Oliver says to Edmund's back as he sulks away.

A moment of silence passes before Jean breaks it. "_See?_" he cries, looking at me triumphantly. "I _told_ you Uncle Oliver can stop that mean man from stealing you!"

Giving up on arguing with the fact that I can't be 'stolen', I shrug and smile at them. Oliver, on the otherhand, still looks a bit confused at the whole subject, as the kids sit back down in their chairs.

"Would you like me to get you a chair, Uncle Oliver?" Antonin asks, looking up at Oliver, who's just standing there.

His eyes go over to Antonin. "What? Oh, no, that's alright." He takes out his wand and conjures up a chair out of thin air, settling it beside me.

"So," Oliver says, clasping his hands together and looking around at all of us. "How's everything?"

"We have a sister," Jean replies, though not exactly looking excited.

"You look happy," comments Oliver, sounding mild.

"Well, I thought we were gonna have a brother. Because everyone's a boy. And now that there's a girl, it won't be fun anymore."

"Girls are fun!" I say, looking defiant. "Why would you say that?"

"Because every girl in the family isn't fun."

"It's true!" says Antonin, looking around at the crowd. "Grandma Weasley's too bossy. Auntie Ginny worries too much! And when she hits, it hurts! I know she doesn't mean it, but she's too strong. Auntie Hermione can get so boring sometimes! She keeps talking about goblins!"

"_I_ like goblins..." Oliver mutters, more to himself than to anyone.

"Auntie Angelina is so slow now! She used to be fun! But when she becomes a Mama, she won't be. And Mama! She doesn't have _any_ fun!"

"You know, your mother was in the Tri-wizard Tournament," I tell them, raising an eyebrow.

"We don't even _know_ what that is," Jean says, rolling his eyes at me. "But that's about it. Nothing much."

"Me!" Jeffrey suddenly cries, making everyone look up at him.

"Oh yeah. Jeffrey had a ride on Uncle Harry's Firebolt and nearly fell. Auntie Ginny was so mad, she hit Uncle Harry."

I wonder why they make Ginny sound so violent. I've heard of her Bat-Bogey hexes, but to be _physically_ violent? Odd. She's always so nice!

"I hope this party's over soon," moans Antonin, resting his head on the table. "I hate these things."

"Why?" Jeffrey asks. "Mum gives me candy!"

"Because we always have to behave! It's no fun when you hafta be good."

"I'm hungry," Oliver suddenly says, getting up from his seat. "Anyone want anything?"

"No," we all say in unison, as he gives us an odd look and walks away.

"Know what, Aunite Katie?" Jean says, after a few moments of silence.

"What?"

"_I_ know something _you_ don't know."

Now, when was the last time someone said that to me?

"Really?" I reply, trying to humour him and myself.

He nods at me, smiling a sly smile. He then grabs his brother's ear.

"Ouch!" cries Antonin, clubbing Jean on the head. "Stop!"

"I'm telling you a _secret!_" hisses Jean, pulling Antonin's ear again. But this time, Antonin leans in. When Jean finishes telling him the 'secret', they both stare at me and start to giggle.

Funny, I didn't know boys could giggle.

"Me too!" wails Jeffrey, pulling on Jean's sleeve. "_Me too!_"

"You always tell people, Jeffrey," Jean explains, giving his cousin a kind look.

Feeling left out, Jeffrey turns to me with these big round eyes. Those exact same eyes that Oliver has. The ones that make you feel sorry for him. I hate those eyes.

"Tell him before he cries!" whispers Anotnin, nudging Jean to tell Jeffrey. Scowling, Jean leans in towards Jeffrey and tells him the secret.

Oh great. Now they all know. And not only that, but they're all smiling at me. Do you ever feel uncomfortable when someone just sits there and smiles at you? And you try your best to avoid it, but you can't so you always stare back, but you still feel embarassed and try to look away? Yeah, well, I have three peopel doing this to me. _Not_ cool.

And for some reason, now _I_ want to hear this secret.

"Can I know too?" I ask Jean, who's got the biggest smile out of them all.

He shakes his head in reply, making me agitated.

"Please?"

Head shake.

"Pretty please?"

Head shake.

"I'm not going to talk to you if you don't."

Rolling his eyes at me, Jean finally says, "_Fine!_ Since you want to know so badly."

"You just don't want me to stop talking to you," I laugh, leaning in to hear his secret.

"Sure, Aunite Katie. You just really wanted to know. So I think I'll tell you."

"Tell away."

"Somebody likes you!"

Well. I wasn't expecting that.

"Who?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at Jean.

"Can't tell you."

"But you just said you'd tell me!"

"I did! I _told_ you!"

"No you didn't!"

"Uh huh! I said I'd tell you the secret. Somebody likes you! I never said I'd tell you _who_."

At this comment, Antonin and Jeffrey snigger from the side, Antonin giving his brother a high-five. Kids. Sometimes... they just really -

"Do you wanna know who?" Jean asks me, in a singsong voice.

"Yes," I reply in a monotone voice.

"Promise not to tell anyone?"

Now, how do you rpomise not to tell anyone? I mean, if someone likes you, you're bound to confront them, aren't you?

"Well," I start, but am cut off.

"Uncle Oliver!" blurts out Jeffrey, as everyone's heads whip towards him. Immediately, his face flushes and he covers his mouth. "Oops."

Well, that's nice.

"Great going, Jeffrey!" Jean says, giving a glare to Jeffrey. "You just ruined the secret!"

But just then, it hits me. Oliver likes me. _Oliver_ likes me! _Oliver_ likes _me?_ _What?_

"Wait - _what!_" I cry, gripping the table with both my hands. I turn to Jeffrey. "What did you just say?"

Instead of answering me, he looks nervously at Antonin, who nods.

"_What!_" I exclaim, rubbing my head. "What the heck - wait, no. _No,_ that can't be right. Wait a second! How would _you_ know?"

"Extendable ears," answers Jean, looking smug. "Uncle George was watching us, and Antonin fell asleep. And earlier, Uncle George gave us extendable ears because we really wanted some. And then Uncle Fred and Auntie Angelina came in. I wasn't really listening much, because they were talking about boring grown up stuff like galleons, but then they said your name."

"Continue," I say, still not really registering anything.

"Well! I couldn't hear very much, so then I found my extendable ears, and all I could hear was that Auntie Angelina says Uncle Oliver and you should really like each other."

"Why would she say that?"

He shrugs. "Because he likes you."

"That's ridiculous. All Angelina said was that we should like each other."

"I think he likes you," Antonin murmurs, resting his chin on his hand.

"Shh!" Jeffrey hisses, pointing to the right. Oliver was heading back our way.

Oh great. Now it's going to so uncomfotable. And what was Jean talking about? Oliver doesn't like me. He can't like me. I mean, it's just impossible! He doesn't like me, does he?

Of course not.

"Why so long?" Jeffrey asks, as Oliver takes his seat once more. Jean smiles at me, looking back and forth between Oliver and myself.

"I had to help your Grandma Weasley out of a charmed chair," he replies, shaking his head. "She was stuck on it."

"Well, maybe we should all go see if she's alright then," Jean replies, looking at his brother and cousin.

I don't really think the other two get the message.

"How about we go check on Grandma Weasley?" Jean asks, with a little more force in his voice, and giving the other two a weird look.

"Antonin, Jean's being scawey," Jeffrey says, inching away from Jean.

"Okay, let's just go!" cries, Jean, pulling Jeffrey with him, with Antonin tailing behind still looking confused.

"What was _that_ about?" Oliver asks, scratching his head and looking towards the way the kids left.

"Oh, just something silly," I tell him, laughing a bit to myself.

"Like what?"

"It's nothing."

"Why aren't you telling me?"

"Because it's stupid."

"But I'd really like to know what you four were up to when I was gone."

Believe me, you don't.

"I told you it was nothing."

"Tell me!"

"Fine! But it's just really dumb so - "

"Katie." He gives me a serious look, which is very unlike him.

I shrug and laugh, "They think you like me."

He gives me a blank stare. "Is that it?"

"Yeah. Proposterous, isn't it?"

"Why?"

I this guy serious?

"What do you mean why?" I give him an odd look, shaking my head, smiling. "Beause! It's... well, it's - "

"It's what, my dear?"

"It's - impossible."

"Why?" he asks, leaning his chin on his hand. "_Why_ is it impossible."

I narrow my eys at him. "Really, Oliver. It's pretty obvious why."

"Um, not really."

"Oh, come on."

"No, I really don't know why you think it's impossible."

"Because!" I cry, sighing at him. "It's - well, it's you."

"Uh huh..."

"And it's me!"

"Okay..."

"Exactly."

He gives me a hard stare. "Hmm. Interesting."

I give him a questioning look, which he replies, saying, "If I told you I liked you, what would you do?"

I stare at him. He stares back at me. Oh. So he's serious about this question. I let out a forced laugh, blinking a few times. "Um... I'm sorry?"

"If I told you I liked you, what would you do?" he repeats, still with that hard look.

"Well," I answer, clearing my throat a bit. "I'd laugh, and tell you that you're just messing with me."

"I like you."

I raise my eyebrow, while his face remains blank. Jutting out my bottom lip, I suck the air through my teeth, and laugh a bit to myself.

"Okay, Oliver. I understand that you've always loved messing around with my head," I say, rolling my eyes at him, still laughing.

But he's not laughing. Why isn't he laughing? And why is this suddenly so uncomfortable? How come he's still staring at me?

"You _do_ realize," he says, eyebrows raised, "that you're the only one laughing."

Hmmm... he _does_ have a point.

"Well, of course I'm laughing!" I say, slapping him lightly on the hand. "Because you're obviously just kidding!"

"And why would you think that?"

"Well, because I - wait, _what?_"

"Why would you think that?"

"Why _wouldn't_ I think that? I know you don't."

"Oh, but I do," he says, making himself look grave.

"Yeah, okay," I scoff, leaning back in my chair. "You like me. Wow. By Jove, who'd have thought that!"

"Actually, Katie, I'm serious."

I bite my lip, staring at him. He's kidding, right? He's gotta be kidding. He doesn't like me. This must be some joke that Fred and George are in, making money off me being gullible.

"_No,_ you aren't," I tell him, shaking my head.

"Well, fine. Believe what you'd like to believe. Just know that I do."

I gape at him. "But you don't! You - you - _can't!_"

He raises his eyebrow at me. "Why not?"

"Because!" I cry, slamming my hands down on the table. "It's _you!_ It's _me!_ And it's _weird!_"

"I'm still not really understanding this."

"Look, Oliver. You and I just aren't right. For one thing, You're famous. _I'm_ not! Famous people don't like everyday-ordinary people! Famous people wouldn't want to be seen with normal people! Famous people like _famous _people!"

"So?"

"What do you mean _so?_ Can't you see that right off the bat, we don't fit? And let's say, we do get together. Oliver, you're too famous to be with me. You're too busy to be with some ordinary person like me. And you're too extraordinary to like someone as plain as me."

"_I_ don't think so," he says quietly, shrugging.

"Okay, fine. Let's ignore the fact that you're famous, and let me point out some other things that wouldn't make us work."

"Point away."

I roll my eyes at him, saying, "I'm not the type of person you'd like anyway."

"And why is that?"

"I'm just not, Oliver. I mean, I'm _horrible!_"

"Really."

"Yes, really! I hate cleaning, my room's a mess! I'm a bit lazy. I was told I'm rude, sarcastic and stubborn. And I'm very uh... _hard-core._"

"Anything else you'd like to add?" he asks me, with an amusing smile playing on his lips.

"Yes," I say, ignoring his smile. "I'm just not up to your standards, Oliver. From all we've heard about you in the news, you've been going out with older women. I should inform you that I am, three years younger than you."

"But you said yourself that three years is nothing."

"When have I ever said that?"

"That day when we went to get Mortimer."

Wow, he remembers that? Even _I_ don't remember that!

"Alright then," I tell him, clearing my throat. "All the women you've been out with aren't like me. They're _tall_ - "

"Katie, you're five foot seven. That's pretty tall."

"They're _rich_ - "

"Money isn't everything."

"They're _famous_ -"

"You said you would ignore the fact that they were famous."

"And they're _beautiful!_ I'm _not!_"

At this comment, he tilts his head to the side, looking at me as if I had something on my face.

"_What?_" I demand, scrunching my face together.

"Why wouldn't you think you're beautiful?" he questions, staring at me intesnsely.

"Because I'm not."

"I think you are."

"Oh, you're just trying to be nice."

"You know what I've noticed about you Katie?" He shakes his head slowly at me, letting out a deep sigh. "You're too negative."

I narrow my eyes at him. "I've bee told."

"You only think negatively of yourself. Why do you do that?"

"I don't think negatively of myself! I just say it like it is."

"You've only pointed out your flaws."

"Yes, well. I'm a... flawful person."

He gives me his amused smile again. "You see? You have so many good qualities that you don't even know about!"

"Huh?"

"You have many good qualities, Katie! You're funny! Okay, fine, in a sarcastic way, most of the time, but you're still funny. You're determined, even if that's just mostly your stubborness. You're loyal, forgiving, and quite a good quidditch player. You're trusting, and honest... _most_ of the time. And I think you're very beautiful."

Well, isn't that just... awwwww.

Is it wrong to be feeling a bit bubbly right now? Well, who gives a shit! Can you believe it? _Oliver Wood_ has just complimented me about a zillion times! Okay, maybe not a _zillion _times, but he complimented me! Oliver Wood! The famous Oliver Wood of the Wimbourne Wasps!

Merlin, Oliver Wood likes me! He _likes_ me! Plain, Katie Justice Bell! The famous Quiddtich keepers is in love with the lowly junior secretary! Well, maybe not in love, but it's getting close! Oh my gosh, think of what people will be saying about us -

... _What am I doing?_ No, this isn't right. It doesn't seem right. Oliver Wood, liking _me?_ Impossible.

"Um, Katie?"

I give a startled shake, realizing that Oliver is still in my face. No, he doesn't like me. By the end of the day, he, Fred and George will be on their knees, cracking up from getting me to believe such monstrosity. I bet they even put in galleons for this! What kind of sick prank is this?

"Okay, yup," I say, waving my hand in the air. "Thanks, Oliver, but let's get real here. How much did you bet on? It's alright. You can tell me."

He gives me a confused face. "What are you talking about?"

"I get it! It's just some joke that you, Fred and George planned on. It's okay, I don't really mind much."

"Seriously, what are you going on about?"

"There's no need to pretend like you don't know what's going on, just tell me!"

"But I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Look, Oliver, I told you already that I get - "

"Actually, _no,_ I _don't_ think you get it," he replies, looking a bit disappointed. "I have no clue what you're rambling on about, but what _I'm_ trying to say is -"

"You can just stop right there," I tell him, holding out my hand. "Because I _know_ you don't really like me."

"Katie, have I ever once lied to you?"

"_Yes!_"

"_When?_"

"When you woke me up that saturday morning during my fourth year, at three a.m.! You said it was seven a.m., but the sky was just really dark! When I got back, it was only eight!"

"Well, aside from that _one_ time! I've never lied! Why would I start now?"

That's true.

I stare at my hands, avoiding him. No, it's not true. Besides, it can't be true. And you know why? Because life doesn't just throw in something good just like _that._ And _if_ it does, it'll be taken away from you the second you start to enjoy it.

Oliver can't like me. We're just so different! I mean, he... well, he - okay, so I can't exactly find something that's so different from us. But seriously! He's used to dating famous women. Do you know how much _better_ they are than me? What if he has expectations? Exactly. And well, I'm a bit... scared of commitment. Yeah, I admit it. I'm afraid of being close to other people. But whatever. What if this is a dream? This has to be a dream, because I know for sure that Oliver isn't that open about his feelings.

"No," I say simply, finally looking up at him. "You don't like me. Simple as that. This is a dream. Any second now, I'm going to wake up and find myself feeling dumb for dreaming such nonsense."

He looks at me dumbstruck. "Katie, would you like me to pinch you? Or, actually, hit you in the head?"

"Go ahead. Because I'll wake up and find that this is just some weird dream."

Rolling his eyes at me, he leans over and slaps me in the head. _Ouch!_ What the fuck! Wincing, I slap his hand away, clutching the spot that still tingles. Right. So maybe this really _isn't_ a dream. Besides, no dream can hurt this much in the head.

"Awake yet?"

I glare at him, while he's sitting back, arms folded together. Grumbling, I take my hand away from my head.

"Katie, why won't you just _believe_ me?" he asks, his face dropping a bit. "I mean, is it really such a horrible thing for me to like you?"

"No," I say, heaving a sigh. "It's not."

"You sure make it sound like it is."

"No, it's not."

"So why are you reacting so... oddly?"

"_Because!_" I cry, rubbing my head again. "It's just - so - ! Ugh, I don't know anymore."

Instead of answering me, he stares at me, with a patient face on, as if waiting for me to explain why.

"I'm really sorry, Oliver." I slowly stand up from my chair, shaking my head. "I'm really sorry."

"I don't get it," he says, not moving from his seat.

"I'm just really sorry. This is too weird. You don't like me."

"But - "

"_No!_" I scrunch my face up, trying to ignore him. "It's going to _ruin_ everything! It's going to be _weird,_ and it's _not _going to last! Just - _no!_"

I turn to walk away slowly, but he calls back after me. "For some reason, this doesn't really surprise me."

My head snaps back around, eyes narrowing a bit.

"Oh, it's really nothing," he says offhandedly, shrugging at me and smiling. "It's just that, you're a very insecure person. You never let anything good happen to you, and you only see the worst in things. Ah, it's alright. The cup's half empty anyway. Tell me when you change your mind."

"Aren't _you_ a touch too happy," I say sarcastically, standing still and watching him smile at me.

"It's okay, I don't take it personally. There _are_ worse things."

"Yeah, there are."

Not really knowing much to say, I turn around again, walking away from the table slowly, just in case he calls back. But he doesn't. I turn my head, to see him, and what he's doing. He's just sitting there, hands in his pockets, looking somewhere away. I follow the direction of his eyes, but all I see is grass and sky. Facing forwards, I continue my way, slipping out of the party.

What if he really _does_ like me? What if he's not lying? It's true - Oliver isn't a liar. But let's say that we _do_ get together. What happens then? Okay, it'll be fun. But then, what happens if it doesn't work out? Wouldn't that just be the perfect way to not only break up, but break up as friends too? And what of our other friends? I don't want to force them to choose sides. Why is everything sudenly so complicated, when an hour ago, I was just sitting there, talking to three kids and having fun?

Maybe I _do_ look on the bad side of things too much. But it's practical, isn't it?

Of course it is. I'm usually right anyway.

_Usually._

* * *

i have a feeling as if i let you guys down. I'M REALLY REALLY SORRY! i'll make it up to you next time.

and i'm also very sorry if you think my chapters are too long. but i'm sorry too - i just can't really write short chapters. i absolutely hate it when people split up their chapters into two different ones. it breaks everything up, and the smoothness is gone. i like having my readers read exactly what i wrote, all in the same chapter. if it makes you feel any better, you can just stop in the middle of my chapter, take a day off, and come back. i'm really sorry again, but i just can't split my chapters; it just doesn't make me feel good. and i like feeling good.

and how did you like my pronunciation guide? i know, i'm just the most considerable person alive.

**review!**


	13. Difficulties in Straight Thinking

**a/n:** and she lives.

seriously, people. sorry for the lack of updates! i swear, i was suppossed to update 2 weeks earlier... but then, things got in the way. (i'll tell you about them after you've enjoyed the pleasure of reading). so here it is - the long awaited chapter thirteen.

**_review_**

* * *

It's not that I don't like him. I don't mind him, not at all. Why would I? He hasn't done anything to physically harm me or anything. Unless you count that time when he whacked me across the back with his broom - which he swears was accidental. But other than that, he didn't do anything. No, he was pretty nice. Okay, not always nice, because he _did_ put a fake spider in my morning porridge once during school.

I've known this guy for many years of my life. Sure, we didn't exactly hit it off. I remember when we first met. I was a second year, he a fifth. And I went out for Chaser tryouts because we were missing two. And he chose me right there, and patted me on the back. Okay, so maybe we _did_ hit it off... ugh nevermind.

But seriously. I don't hate him. Granted, I am sometimes not very nice to him. But he knows I don't mean it, right? Okay, that just made me sound so rude. But really - I _don't_ mind him! So let's all just take a deep breath, let it out, and not think about Oliver.

Weather's quite nice, isn't it.

It's not like I hate him or anything... I just don't feel like we should be together, you know?

By the way, good job, self, for not thinking about him.

Well, anyway, for some reason, I just feel so horrible. Even more horrible than that time I lost my mother's priceless bracelet. I hope he doesn't hate me...

Oliver doesn't hate people. He's one of the nicest people. He has this philosophy, saying that '_no one hates anything, therefore, you are not able to hate_'. So I hope he doesn't hate me.

Or does he?

"Katie, are you even paying any attention?"

Ah, yes. That's right. My problems aren't important. No, not as important as Alicia's.

"I hope you know, what I'm telling you here is very important!"

Of _course_ it is.

"And you're still not listening! Katie, a friend in need is a friend indeed."

_Indeed._

"Katie! Listen to me!"

I roll my eyes and breathe out heavily through my nose. I love Alicia. I really do. But sometimes - oh my _god._

"Have I gotten your attention yet?" she asks, glaring at me.

"I'm sure she's been listening," Angelina says, walking slowly back from the counter to the table.

"Yeah right," Alicia scoffs, blowing a piece of her hair.

"I have!" I exclaim, crossing my arms and looking resolute. "Honest!"

"Prove it!"

This girl is unbelievable. "For the past half hour, you've been ranting on about George Weasley."

She gives me a scandalized look. "I did _not_ rant! Angelina, tell her I didn't rant!"

Angelina shifts oddly, sitting down carefully in her chair. "Well, to be honest, Alicia, I think you _are_ - "

"Oh you both are so full of it!" Alicia mutters, stomping her foot on the floor and crossing her arms.

"Alicia," I say, trying to sound reasonable, "why exactly did you and George break up again?"

She turns to me with a smug look on her face. "See! I _knew_ you weren't paying any attention! If you were you'd know - "

"I'm guessing it was 'differences'."

This has managed to shut her up at least.

"You know," Angelina says, rasing her brows at Alicia, "everytime you break it off with someone, you always use the excuse of 'differences'. Are they really all differences? I mean, what about Elbert? I really did like him. He was so suitable with you. Not that George wasn't or anything..."

"Well, they _are_ differences!" Alicia gives Angelina an evil look.

"Really."

"Yes, really! Elbert and I couldn't communicate, therefore, it was off."

"Are you sure? Or was it just that he wasn't as good looking as George Weasley?"

"It has nothing to do with that!"

"George _is_ pretty good looking," I tell her, tilting my head to the side. "What went wrong with that? Usually, the second try works better... Okay, maybe it did work better. You went for two extra months."

"Oh, you hush," Alicia mutters, now turning her evil look over to me. "They _are_ differences!"

"And what were they _this_ time?"

"We just don't click."

"Odd," Angelina says, scratching her head. "Usually, for those who 'don't click', there aren't any hard feelings. Why do you feel so ill towards George?"

"No reason," she replies, sounding a bit too airy.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing at all."

"I think George is going out with someone," I say abruptly, remembering that a few days ago, I saw him arm in arm with another woman at Diagon.

Quickly, her eyes narrow at me. "_What?_"

"I was out shopping for a new book, and I just saw him with someone else. Didn't think much of it, until now."

Which isn't exactly true. I was going to tell Alicia today, when I came to see Angelina, but when I got here, she was already ranting on about him.

"That _cheater!_" she exclaims, slamming her fist on the table, causing the cups and plates to jangle. "I can't _believe_ he did that! What the fuck? We were still together up until yesterday, and he even has the slightest _nerve_ - "

"Alicia, you were flirting with one of his friends at that party last week," Angelina tells her, shaking her head slowly. "So you can't really go blaming him for frivolous acts."

"_Frivolous?_" Alicia cries, putting her hands on her chest. "I am _not_ frivlous! And I wasn't flirting!"

"Oh, come on, Alicia. We know you. You were so flirting."

"What is _that_ suppossed to mean? '_You know me_'? Are you calling me unfaithful? If I had a boyfriend, I wouldn't go flirting with someone else!"

"But don't you remember that one time," I add, as she turns her face to me, "when you were going out with Isaac Kelly, and then you out of nowhere, you had some fling?"

"And," Angelina comments, raising her brow at her best friend, "when you were with Gary Nawlitt, you had that one night of fun with George?"

"What!" I exclaim, my mouth open. "You cheated on Gary with George? What did you _do_?"

"Are you serious?" Angelina asks, rolling her eyes at me. I sit back in my chair, biting my tongue from commenting.

"What we're trying to say is," Angelina tells Alicia, trying to sound as kind as possible, "is that we know what you're like, Alicia. We know you're impulsive, and that sometimes, you can get a bit carried away. We know you're not exactly one hundred percent faithful, but - "

"_Excuse_ me?" Alicia says, looking disgusted with Angelina. "Impulsive? Carried away? Not one hundred percent faithful?"

"Look, Alicia, we just don't know why you're getting so upset over something that's really more your fault than his - "

"More _my_ fault than _his_?" Alicia gives Angelina an appalled look, and even throws in a glare for me. Geez, what the hell did_ I_ do? _I _wasn't the one who called her unfaithful.

"Calm down - "

"_Calm down_? You expect me to calm down when my so-called best friend just c_ompletely_ insults me? You don't even know what the hell you're talking about! Impulsive my ass!"

Trying to ease the blame from Angelina, I'm about to open my mouth to say something until Alicia interrupts me.

"Don't you try to go save her, Katie! Because it's not going to work! And don't you go thinking that I'm not mad at _you_ either! You both don't even care about me! All you care about are your own petty little lives! What about _me_? _I'm_ the one with _real_ heart break! I can't believe you'd just go and... I don't know, call me a liar, a manipulator, a cheater - "

"We never said you were any of those things," I tell her, tapping my foot impatiently on the floor.

"_You might as well!_ You _implied_ it anyway! And you _did_ call me a cheater! Which I'm _not!_"

"The evidence is right there in your face!" Angelina cries, putting her hands up in the air. "What the hell is _wrong_ with you? When it comes to the opposite sex, you're a complete lunatic!"

"And now she's calling me a lunatic. _What_ a friend!" Alicia says sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"And you can't say that we don't care about you," I say, calming my voice down in hopes to calm them both down. "If we didn't care about you, we wouldn't be here, right now, listening to you complain - "

"Listening?" she gives me an incredilous look, her eyes growing wider by the second. I shrink back form her. "_Listening?_ Are you _kidding_ me? You weren't even paying any attention to what I was talking about! Merlin, you two are some people!"

I open my mouth in protest. "Yeah, we _are_ some people, Alicia! Where on earth would you find two people like us, who are willing to listen to your idiot whining? God, you are such a pampered princess! Has there _ever_ been a time where you've put yourself aside and thought of other people? You're not the only sad, miserable, heart-broken person in the world, you know! There are plenty in the same situation!"

"Oh, like you?" she retorts, eyes flashing at me. "Oh wait a minute - _that_ can't be right. You're such a wuss that you can't even get yourself a significant other! And here you are, telling me how to behave in a relationship? What do _you_ know? You've never even _been_ in one! So you really shouldn't even _get_ an opinion!"

All I can is stare at her. Ouch. That one hurt. A lot. Crash and burn. Look at her face; all triumphant and confused. Honestly, all I'm trying to do is help her! It's not my fault she's a cheating, backstabbing, manipulative woman! I don't blame George at all for leaving her! Not a _bit!_

Oh great. Why are my eyes getting fuzzy? Oh wow. I'm going to cry. Don't cry. Don't let her see you cry. If she sees you crying she'll know she's won, and she'll be even worse.

"Alicia, just shut up," Angelina mutters, shaking her head at her friend. "You don't need to go upsetting other people just because _your_ life isn't turning the way you want it to."

"_What!_" she cries, now leering at the both of us. "Oh, fine! I get it. I see how it is! You both are going to go against me then, aren't you? Fine! Just fine! I don't need you! I don't need this dumb verbal abuse from the two people whom I though were the ones who'll love me for who I am, no matter what!"

"But we _do_ love you!" Angelina sighs, rubbing her head. "But sometimes, you just don't see it."

"I don't _see_ it? So you calling me a cheater is a way to say that you love me? Fine! If that's what love is, then take a stab at this: your wedding dress was horrific, Fred is too short for you, _and_," she adds, giving Angelina a smug and evil smile, "I kissed him back in third year!"

At this, Angelina's draw drops immediately, her hands gripping the table making her knuckles white. "You _didn't_," she whispers, eyes narrowing at Alicia.

Smiling a more evil smile, Alicia replies, "Oh, I did!" And with that, she grabs her purse, pushes her chair back forcefully, and stomps out of the house, slamming the door behind her.

And then there were two. I steal a glance at Angelina, who's sitting opposite of me. She looks much more paler than before. And her eyes are getting red. Okay, _I've_ stopped crying at least. Man, Alicia can be a bit hard core sometimes. What a bitch too. And Angelina's _pregnant!_ All this isn't good for a pregnant woman, I shouldn't think.

"Angelina - "

"No, _don't_ say anything, Katie," she says, holding up her hand. Her voice wobbles dangerously. "Whatever it is, I'm not too sure I want to hear it at the moment."

I choose to ignore her. "Don't let her get to you, Angelina. She's just upset. You know how she gets - she doesn't think when she's mad. And she only says all that to get revenge. Besides, it's not like she means any of it. It probably wasn't even true, what she said about her kissing Fred - "

At the mention of Fred, I hear a choked sob coming from her. I continue, pretending not to hear her.

"Alicia's always been like that. You know it, I know it. _George_ knows it. Maybe she's just not ready to be tied down yet. Don't let her words get to you. And don't cry."

"Bit rich coming from you," she says, giving me a watery smile.

"There's really no need for crying. I mean, maybe when she did it, it was an accident?"

"Come on, Katie. That's just stupid."

"Well, maybe - "

I get cut off as we hear the front door open and close. I raise my eyebrow at Angelina, who just shrugs and looks away.

"Anyone care to tell me what the hell is up with Alicia?" I look up to see Fred coming into the kitchen, looking as cheery as possible, not even noticing the both of us. "Last I saw of her, she was pelting down the road, grumbling to herself -" And finally, he sees his wife.

He looks at me with a questioning look, but also with a bit of accusation in it. He narrows his eyes at me before saying, "Angelina, what's wrong, love?"

Turning around, Angelina gives him the deadliest glare I've ever seen her with; and let me tell you, that death glare from her is... more evil than even _Alicia's!_ Now that's something! I should really practice mine. I can't even compare to her!

"Angelina?" Fred repeats, walking over to her. He puts his hand on her shoulder.

"_Don't!_" she shrieks, slapping his hand off of her and standing up quickly. I can see her wince from the pain - _not_ cool for pregnant people. Fred tries to stable her, but she keeps fighting him off. I dash over to her and help her, while Fred looks completely... lost.

"Are you okay?" Fred asks uncertainly, trying once more to get closer to his wife.

"Don't _touch_ me!" she squeals, wrenching herself away from me, and getting out of the kitchen as quickly as possible. In a few silent minutes, Fred and I hear a distinct sound that indicated she had locked herself in the bedroom.

"I don't get it," Fred mumbles, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking down. "What the hell did I _do?_"

I shouldn't tell him. He'd just get mad at me, and another door will be slammed. But if I don't tell him, he'd never know. Unless Alicia tells him first, which would probably make this situation all the more worse... Okay, calm down. But this isn't too cool now, is it? It's not even half a year since their marriage, and now something's up, and the woman is pregnant! Yet married couples do have their own fights... hmmmm... should I tell him?

Better me than Alicia I guess.

"It's you," I say, tilting my head to the side.

"What?" he asks, narrowing his eyes at me. "Did I miss something?"

"No, you were right on target. You kissed Alicia."

He gives me a flabbergasted look. "I did _not!_ What the hell is wrong with you, Katie?"

"Back in third year or something like that."

I can see the top of his head crinkle as though deep in thought, pondering what I've just said. And then it hits him, and the colour drains from his face. Oh shit. Now I feel so bad. So maybe I shouldn't have told him. Hmmm... what to do now?

"She'll forget about it soon," I say quickly, my hands pulling on my shirt to ease my nerves. "She's quite a forgiving person."

He gives me a look that contradicts what I had just said. Okay, fine. So maybe Angelina _isn't_ the most forgiving person. Not that she isn't forgiving or anything... it just takes longers to happen... or it doen't actually happen at all... aw crap.

"But it was a mistake!" he suddenly cries, holding onto his head with both of his hands. "An innocent mistake! I don't get it!"

"Fred, breathe - "

"We weren't even together then! Why should she care?"

I give him a look. "So you mean to tell me that you liked Alicia first?"

Look at him. He's twisting his hands and his face is scrunched... why is he twisting his hands? And why is his face scrunched? Oh _no..._

"I was just kidding about that," I start, raising an eyebrow at him. "You never liked Alicia... Right?"

Instead of answering, he pulls out a chair roughly and plops down, burying his face in his arms.

"Fred?"

No answer.

"Fred."

Nothing.

"Fred, seriously."

"But I don't _anymore!_" He lifts his head up, with the most guiltiest face on. "I _don't! Honest!_"

Okay, this isn't goiong right... No, he's not suppossed to like Alicia, while being married to her best friend. Is it just me, or does Alicia... I don't know, seem to be the most popular of us all?

"Fred?" I ask tentively, regarding him closely. "May I ask that... I don't know, you explain?"

He narrows his eyes at me, breathing deeply. "Fine. But you can't tell _anyone_ about it."

"I won't."

"Not even Alicia or Angelina. Or even _George!_"

"I won't."

He gives me a long, hard look, as if trying to find something that might contradict me. In the end, I don't think he finds what he's looking for.

"I admit; I _did_ like Alicia first. She was the prettiest in our year. Come on, what guy didn't have a crush on her? Okay, Slytherins and Oliver excluded, but really. She was so nice to me, and she was so easy to talk to. Even if Angelina was her best friend, Angelina never talked to me much. I never really got to know her until fourth year."

Why do I have a feeling this isn't going to be too good?

"And then, one day, when we were partners for Charms, we had to work overtime in a classroom after class hours, because well... I usually spent my time in Charms class messing about. And out of nowhere - on impulse, I _swear _- I just... sorta kissed her."

"Oh _Fred..._"

"Before you say anything, I stopped myself, because I knew it was wrong! I mean, I knew George liked her, and she liked George too! Not me. A bit sad, since we look so alike, but... yeah. It ended there, and I guess I just sort of... grew onto Angelina."

Why do I feel like he's not telling everything?

"Fred, did you still like Alicia while you and Angelina were dating?" I ask, tilting my head to the side.

There's that guilty face of shame again. "_Fred?_"

"Katie, do you ever find youself being drawn to someone even though you're in love with someone else?"

Now how the heck am I suppossed to answer _that_ one?

"Um... sorry, Fred, but... I've never actually been in love."

"I _love_ my wife! I _really_ do! I'd give up my life a thousand times to see her smile! But... sometimes, I just wonder what it'd be like if... it was the other scenario."

"You mean you still like her, even now?"

"Well, no, not _now!_ But... for the first two years that I dated Angelina, yes, I still had a minor crush on her best friend. I'm a horrible person, I know."

Giving a sigh, I walk over to the table and sit across from him, patting his arm. "You're not a bad person, Fred. I'm sure that... there are many other people who have been in the same situation that you've been. At least you're not hung up over her."

"Katie, please don't tell anyone." He looks at me with the hugest eyes in the world - huger than even Oliver's. I give him a nod, which he smiles to. "Thanks."

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

"You're still not as positive as you should be, I hope you know."

I don't know what she's ranting on about. She's been like this for the past ten minutes.

"You need to smile more often! Be more happy! Your positiveness is so.. negative."

"Well, too bad, because that's as positive as I can get."

Just what I need. She's making me be more positive. Like, come on! How positive can you possibly get?

"You were doing so well last week!" Nasuada says, giving me a wondering look. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I reply, shrugging. Actually, many things have happened. I just never got to getting around to tell her yet.

"I know when something's wrong with you," she says, peering at me over her nose. "You start to fidget, you get worried, you're distracted, and you don't pay attention to your surroundings."

"It's nothing," I repeat, sounding firmer, but she doesn't accept it.

No, she just has to be so fricken persistent. "What happened? Did you do something? I told you over and over again that you need to be more positive! I bet that you acted negatively in whatever situation you got yourself in! You know, you really need to look out for yourself! Be more happy, be - "

"Nasuada!" I cry, slamming my mug of tea on the table. "Shut _up!_"

"There goes the positvity," she replies sarcastically, chewing on her tongue.

"Why won't you just believe me when I say that there's nothing wrong?"

"Don't kid yourself, Katie. We both know something's on your mind."

Oh, how true it is. I'm not thinking about Fred and Angelina and Alicia. No, I'm thinking about Oliver. I know, so selfish, to be thinking of Oliver instead of your other friends who are in a bigger pickle than yourself. But I can't help it! I've even lost sleep over it! And that doesn't happen often! Never have I ever lost sleep. From a_ boy!_

"Is it family?" Nasuada asks, a small frown on her face. "Because everyone has family issues. I for one, am quite mad at my sister for taking my - "

"No, it's not family," I tell her, sighing a little.

"Work? Is it Jameson? He doesn't seem to bothering you much."

"No, he's not my problem. He's too infatuated at the moment to even acknowledge me."

"Is it a boy?"

Don't look at her. If you look at her, she's going to start smiling. And then she's going to giggle. Okay, kiddo. Just subtley look the other direction. Do it. Do it now.

I said _now._

"It _is_ a boy!" she cries, as I look up at her and cringe. There it is. That dumb smile. Oh, and she's starting to giggle. Ugh, how I hate her giggle. Especially when it's geared towards me. She claps her hands together, asking, "_Who?_"

"No one," I mumble, directing my head downwards.

"Tell me!"

"Nothing!"

"Oh, come on, just tell me!"

"I said it's nothing."

"Please? I won't tell anybody!"

"_No!_"

"Oh fine! Be that way."

She rolls her eyes at me, scoffing, tapping her fingers on my desk. And she has this face on. As if it's my fault she's got a bad mood.

"Tell me," she demands, giving me a critical look.

"No."

"Just tell me, it won't hurt."

"Nasuada, seriously - "

"Oh, why won't you just tell me!"

"Because!"

"Is it that guy you met a few months back?"

"What guy?" I ask her. What?

"That guy!" she says, rolling her eyes at me again. "You know! The one you told me about! You met him at the party!"

"I don't - " Oh. Yes, that's right. I remember. "You mean Alan?"

"_That's_ his name! Yes, is it him?"

"No." I wonder what happened to Alan. I haven't seen him since our little... date? Well, whatever it was, it was quite nice. Oliver never mentioned him either. Wonder why.

"Then who?"

"Nobody! Honestly. Nasuada. Stop snooping!"

She eyes me with suspicion. "Oliver." Her face is all... critical. And accusing. And I think I just made a face, or otherwise, she wouldn't be smirking at the moment. Oh no. She's really smirking now. Stop it.

"You like _Oliver!_" she cries, clapping her hands together and congratulating herself for finding out. "You like Oliver! Oh _Katie!_"

"I _don't_ like him!" I argue back, crossing my arms. "Stop it! And quit being so loud!"

She immediately clamps her mouth with her hands, but I can still see that smirk peeking through at me. I hate it when she finds something out and gets all excited.

"I wonder what it'd be like to be his girlfriend," she says blissfully, leaning her chin against her hand. "He's young, famous _and_ rich! You'd be so pampered, you don't know _what_ hit you!"

Does she really think of me like that? "I'm not in it for his _money!_"

"Well, I wouldn't think so. But think of all the benefits!"

"What benefits?"

"You know... you could travel with him. He could buy you such extravagant gifts! You'll eat luxurious food only the rest of us can dream of!"

"But I don't care about any of that!" I tell her, shaking my head. "I don't _care_ if he has money! I don't _care_ if he's famous! To me, he'll always be that cocky guy with the adrenaline rush when the word '_quidditch_' is said. He'll always be Captain Wood! He'll always be that guy who gets on my nerves for waking me up to go to quidditch practice on saturday mornings."

"People change, Katie."

"I _know_ that, Nasuada! Which is why I just don't feel like anything should happen."

"You told him you liked him?" she asks, giving me a raised eyebrow. "That's quite unlike you."

"No no. He told me he liked me."

"And you said...?"

"I said no."

She's giving me a blank stare. I don't like blank stares much. Stop it.

"You said no," she repeats, looking at me suspiciously.

"I said no."

"You said no."

"Yes, I said no."

"You said _no_."

"I think the fact has already been established, that I did, indeed, say no."

"You said no?"

"I said no."

"Why!" she suddenly cries, leaning over and giving the side of my head a heavy pat. "Why would you say no?"

"Why _wouldn't_ I say no?" I retort, wincing at the pain. "And why do _you_ care?"

She rolls her eyes at me, giving a frustrated sigh. "Oh _please_, Katie! Everyone knows that he fancies you."

"_I_ didn't know," I reply. How could I have?

"Well, okay, maybe you're just a bit slow on things, but everyone - _everyone_ knew. And you said no!"

"Why does it matter that I said no?"

"Because!" she says, shaking her head at me. "Maybe this could be your chance."

Chance? What the fuck is that suppossed to mean? "Are you saying that I have no life?"

"In a nutshell," she says, giving me a critical look.

"_Excuse_ me!" I cry with indignation. "I shall inform you, that I do have a life! I have a job - "

"Which you hate."

"I have friends - "

"That you hardly see anymore."

"My family - "

"That you have issues with."

"I have a life!"

"No, you don't."

I glare at her sitting opposite from me. How could she say that? I _do_ have a life! I have a job - sure, it's not the _best_ job, but I'm getting paid! And there are many people who'd love to have my job! I have friends, and maybe I don't see them much, but I _do_ make a point in seeing them, even if it's small little meetings! I talk to my family. Okay, so we have our little rifts, but what family doesn't? I have a life!

"What did you mean by this could be my _chance_?" I ask, eyes narrowing at her.

She gives a shrug. "I don't know. You're always complaining that you're alone. And I remember what you told me."

"I do _not _always complain that I'm always alone! And what did I tell you?"

"You said your life didn't turn out the way you wanted it to. You're supposed to be promoted. You wanted to live in a huge house with white picket fences. You said you wanted to be married by twenty-three."

"So?"

"You haven't been promoted in the seven years you've been here at the Ministry. You don't live in a house, but instead, you live in a cramped apartment above an apothecary. You're still single, and I honestly don't think you'll be married by twenty-three, let alone have your kids."

Gosh, she doesn't need to go pointing out the obvious.

"Are you here to put me down?" I give her a scathing look, crossing my arms. "I know that I'm a disappointment to myself, okay? I know that I hate my job. I know I'll probably never get promoted. I know that I'm still single, and that I won't get to be a young bride. _I know!_"

"So maybe Oliver can be your chance."

"My chance at _what?_ He's not going to get me a promotion!"

"No, but he'll give you a big house with the picket fences, he'll give you a marriage, and children."

I grab my head in frustration, letting my breath out slowly. Is that really how she sees me? That I need someone in order to help me succeed?

"I don't _need _Oliver!" I exclaim, taking my hands from my head. "I don't need _anybody!_ I am an independent person! I don't _need_ him to get a promotion! I don't _want_ him to give me a house!_ I_ want to earn these things for myself, and then, finally, I can call myself a successful woman! I refuse to live off any man!"

"Calm down!" Nasuada says, grabbing my hands, which have been flinging around, and pinning them to the table.

I breathe heavily, avoiding to meet her eyes. Why would she think I needed someone to provide for me? I've been living on my own for the past seven years. I think I can manage a few more.

"Katie, is it really so bad that Oliver likes you?" she asks, her tone of voice now soft and kind. "He's really such a wonderful - "

"I _know_ that!" I stand up from my chair, and pace around my cramped cubicle. "I _know_ he's a wonderful person! _Everyone_ knows that! I _know_ he's nice! I know he's kind! I know _everything!_ I know his faults, I know what annoys him! I know that he would treat me even better than himself! I know he'll be a great husband, a great father, a great provider! _I know that!_"

"So what is it that you're so afraid of?"

I pause in my small rant, coming to a physical halt. "I..." What _am_ I so afraid of?

"Katie?"

"I'm afraid of myself."

"What do you mean?" she questions, leading me back to my seat.

"Nasuada," I say, turning to her. "What do you think of me?"

"Oh!" she says abruptly. "I... I think you're quite decent."

"You think I'm lousy. You think I'm lazy. You think I'm negative."

"Katie, you know I love you even for your faults! And besides, there are many things great about you - "

"Like what?"

"You're funny," she replies, smiling at me encouragingly. "You're one of the few people I know who are genuinely funny, without trying."

"That's all?"

"Of course not! You're generous. Who was the one who willingly donated their new robes to the orphanage?"

"Well, they needed them more."

"Exactly! You're just different, Katie. And different seems to be attracting men these days. So I really don't know what you're so afraid of."

"Because!" I rub my eyes, trying to forget about everything. "I'm just... we're just too different from each other."

"How so?"

"Uh, reality check. He's famous."

"So?"

"Nasuada, the guy has _standards!_ He's went out with his fellow famous people! How can I compare?"

"Oh, you're just being ridiculous - "

"_No_, I don't think I am. Nasuada, what would he want with someone like me? Have you never met him? He's famous. He's good looking. He's tall, he's tan, and he's just the nicest person in the world. He's an athlete! He's popular! He doesn't need me to make him happy."

"When will you ever stop putting yourself down?" Nasuada rolls her eyes at me, and looks at me seriously. "Katie, _you're_ tall. _You're_ tan. _You're_ good looking. Sure, you're not famous, and you're not exactly popular. So what? Nobody's perfect."

"_Oliver_ is perfect! I can't just... imperfect his... perfection."

"I hope you know that made absolutely no sense."

"Well, you still understood the point."

"Sure, I guess."

"He has all these women chasing after him! What does he want _me_ for?"

"Because he actually likes you?"

"Well, even if he does, I can't be with him."

"Seriously, _what_ is your problem?" she asks, now giving me an annoyed look. "You always puts yourself down, you make yourself seem like the ugliest git in the world, and you just don't compliment yourself. You don't realize that you have your points too."

"My points aren't good enough to fit the standards of Oliver Wood," I say, burrying my face in my arms. "I just think he deserves better."

It's true. He does deserve better than me. I'm just average. The girl who's your friend, _not_ your girlfriend. The one who's -

"_Fuck!_" I cry, my hand immediately going to my head. I look up to see Nasuada holding a satisfied face. "What the hell did you slap me for?"

"So you can finally snap out of your dumb depression stage and see that you _do_ have self worth."

"Who says I don't think I have self worth?"

"_Oliver deserves better... I'm just not up to his standa_rds," she mimics, sounding nothing at all like me. "Just shove it all up your ass and listen to me."

I roll my eyes at her, but obey, sitting up more straightly, though still holding my head. That was actually very painful.

"You, Katie Bell, _are_ good enough for Oliver Wood. I don't know why you'd even say you aren't, when in my opinion, you are the one too good for _him!_ You need to seriously, _seriously_ stop being so negative. You need to see the good things in life. The glass is half full, _not_ half empty! You need some change. You need improvement. You need a date."

Euhmmm... okay?

"You're as athletic as he is! Aren't you a quidditch player yourself? You're good looking. And you don't even have make up on! You aren't famous, but you don't need to be to turn heads. You're youthful, energetic and witty! I think you're quite the popular person within the office."

Well, that's very sweet.

"So can you just not put yourself down anymore? Because _really_ - it's getting pretty annoying."

I give her a smile. "It's just in my nature to not compliment myself, you know."

"Well, you need a makeover, attitude wise. Maybe you should start," she says, shaking her head at me. "Even though you should have started when I taught you how to be zen a while back."

"I'll start now, I promise."

"Excellent! Now you can start by asking Oliver out."

"No, thank you."

"Why not!"

"Because I don't do that."

"Do what?"

"He needs to ask me out first."

She gives me an incredelous look. "Are you _serious? _He's already told you he liked you! He made the first move! And you put him down. Knowing guys, I don't think he'd come back any time soon."

She has a point.

"Well, when he does come calling," I tell her, crossing my legs together, "I'll change my mind just for your sake. That's if he comes calling."

"Oh, he will, don't worry," she says, wiggling her brows at me. "you're one sexy beast."

"And you're one sick randy bitch."

"I know."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It's been two weeks. Two weeks since he told me. Two weeks of endless nights, thinking of what he said to me. Two weeks of no sleeping, two weeks of strewn coffee mugs, and two weeks of udder brooding.

I can't stop thinking about him. Seriously. I think I've gone mental.

And he still hasn't come to see me.

_Why_ isn't he coming?

No, stop it. It doesn't matter anymore. I've decided to put him in my past anyway. Besides, I can always find someone else.

Except that I can't because I keep thinking about him. And to be honest, it's actually getting _quite_ unhealthy. His face keeps bobbing into my head. His dumb, good-looking bright, tanned face. Good Merlin, how I hate beautiful people.

I've tried to sleep. Nothing works. Those dumb muggle stress relieving eye-pads don't do shit. The magical ones don't do shit. A massage doesn't do shit. A relaxing bubble bath doesn't do shit.

Apparently, nothing in the world, does shit. Absolutely nothing. Nothing _at all._

Excuse me, while I go dunk my head in an ice bucket. It might just numb my brain so I can stop thinking.

Look at what he did. He made me think! Oh, that jerk.

* * *

**a/n:** so why, exactly, haven't i updated? here, i'll tell you why.

this very chapter has a lot of my _own_ emotional feelings in it. why? one answer; _boys._

yes, a boy has gotten into my head. a boy who was suppossed to remain as a boy. a boy who doesn't even talk to me, and is only in one class with me. a boy who isn't even suppossed to know i _exist._

a boy who is friends with my own friends, and has suddenly started recently sitting with us at our table for lunch. of course, i didn't think anything of it. not until the night before the last day of school. my friends decided to tell me that they have an irking feeling that he likes me. and that the other guys know he likes me. and that he points me out 'secretly' to his friends.

i'm new. _he's_ new. nothing is suppossed to happen with the new kids. nothing at all.

and the thing is, i think he's perfectly nice! we were partners for two of our projects. he doesn't even talk to me! how can he possibly like me? and why would he like me? he's popular, he's an athlete, and he has the 'cool people' for friends. sure, he doesn't talk to the 'cool people' as much as my friends - who are now _his_ friends - but _still._

i am not a popular person. i don't know how everyone seems to know me, but i am _not_ a popular person. i am not an athlete. i prefer not to hang out with the 'cool kids' because they piss me off, acting like they're all that when they arent. i like to read. i like to write. i stay after school to tutor grade nines and tens. i am a band junkie. what does he see in me? we're different! _completely different._

and throughout this whole entire christmas break, i have suffered endless nights of no sleeping. time and time again, his face pops into my head. and i dont know! this isn't suppossed to happen. i'm suppossed to be_ normal_. my goal at this school was to not get mugged (hahaha you'd understand if you were at my school), _not_ to have a boyfriend. not that he's bad looking or anything. he's tall. and nice. and quite the funny person, actually. **eurgghhh!**

ok, i've gone on long enough. so this is why this chapter was delayed. i couldn't write. everytime i tried, i'd end up thinking about him. so finally, i became such a genius that i decided to integrate my feelings as katie's feelings.

holler back, ladies. i need some advice. and you too, men, so i can figure out what all this means8-S


	14. Not Like You

**a/n:** yeahhhhhhhh she's back. excited? i didn't think so.

so... it's been a bit over a month. i'll apologize: i've been too caught up with school. what with midterm exams, midterm projects that are worth 20 of my final mark at the end of the year... it's been hectic. and i still have many things to do, such as my mock trial for law, and this big culminating activity... or rather, 6 culminating activities. i should be working on them at the moment, butttt... i felt bad for tagging this story along without a february update, so here it is!

oh, and thanks for the reviews! and thank _you_, giddyupgal, for that wonderful reminder. so here it is, the 14th chapter to my story. not the best, but hey - my brain's not working well these days.

* * *

You know, it's quite easy to get mad at pregnant women. Seriously.

Especially Angelina.

Now, I have nothing against Angelina. She's wonderful company. But she really just needs to... I don't know.

Company, you ask? She's currently living with me. Uh huh. Yup. With me. Not with her husband, Fred Weasley, but with _me_. Why? Because she's still thundering mad at Fred, that's why.

You know how pregnant women scare me? And you know how I have one living under my roof? And you know how stressed pregnant women get, and how agitated they get, and how _fricken annoying_ they get?

_Yeah._

She's just gone off to her room - my guest room - and slammed the door in my face. Because she was mad at me. For finishing a pumpkin pastey. And yes, I know the preggos need to eat for two, and I must think of her instead of being so selfish, but honestly. I had just gotten a whole box of them yesterday, and there was only one left. And I didn't even touch it! Don't you think I deserve even one? Sorry for being greedy, but I think I do. I was the one who got them anyway.

Whatever. Being around pregnant women still irk me. Don't ask me why. And they make me feel so unfulfilled. They have something growing inside of them, while I'm all hollow. Okay, I'm going to stop complaining now.

So how's Fred. Fred's fine. Fred's wonderful. Fred's just great.

No, actually. I'm lying, but I'm sure you already knew that.

Fred is in a state of shock. I've tried visiting him a few days earlier, but he's just so... well, not normal. And yes, I know Fred's not exactly the most normal person in the world, but right now, he's just... not himself. It took him seven minutes and thirty-eight seconds to open the door for me. And did he look gross. His hair was everywhere, he had this atrocious stubble, and bags under his eyes. He was only wearing some weird wife-beater and shorts with broomsticks on them. The house is a mess. It hasn't been cleaned, the dishes haven't been washed, and laundry was scattered everywhere. It even smelled funny. Like feet. Okay, let's not get into details with scent. But anyway, he was just so broken.

And it's not like he hasn't tried or anything. A week ago, right when Angelina left, he tried so hard to get her back. He sent flowers to my doorstep, only to have her throw them across the room. And me, being such a lovely person, had to go pick them up. I replanted them. They really were quite pretty flowers.

Oh yes, he's tried writing poems, getting friends to talk to her, and everything. But nothing's working. At the moment, Lee Jordan has managed to get him up and running. So I think he's better now.

As for Alicia. I'm not too sure what to say about Alicia. She's not talking to us, we're not talking to her. And she and George are officially over. Or so said George. I guess he just couldn't deal with her mood swings.

I miss her though. Seriously. Even if she was this monster bitch, I still miss her. And I know Angelina does too. She just won't admit it.

So far, this whole entire month has been so... bleh. For one thing, Oliver had revealed his secret to me. And then I shot him down and he hasn't been to seeme since. My talk with Nasuada cheered me up a bit, until I realized that I probably embarassed the crap out of Oliver's pants and he'll never face me ever again. Angelina, Alicia and I got into some gigantic fight for no apparent reason. Fred told me about his past. Angelina's angry at him, and now she's living with me.

Ah well. There _are_ worse things in life I suppose.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"George! What an... uncalled for surprise!"

And what an uncalled for surprise it really is. Seriously. I mean, I'm just sitting here, at work, when in steps George Weasley. Why is it a surprise? Because George never pops into my work. He never comes out of the blue. For the seven years I've worked here, never once has George come down and paid me a visit. I wasn't even sure he knew where I worked, let alone be able to find my cubicle... So, if you were me, you'd be quite surprised. George never visits anyone at work if he could help it.

"Is this a bad time?" he asks, standing at the door of my cubicle. He looks around the floor, his expression unreadable.

"Oh, no!" I reply, standing up, going around my desk and pulling out my guest chair. "Sit down. Sit. Really."

He gives me a quick smile before slipping into the seat. He holds out a wrapped box for me. "I er... got you something. You know, since it's rude of me to just drop in without notice."

Well, isn't that sweet. "Oh George, you didn't have to. Besides, you aren't bothering me."

"So how's Angelina?"

Ah, so we're straight to the point. "Angelina is fine. How is Fred?"

He raises his eyebrows at me. "I'm sure you've seen him lately."

Yes, that's true.

"Fred is just..." George starts, his face screwed up as if trying to think of the proper word to describe his brother. "He's just not himself."

"What happening with him these days?"

"Hejust sits there in that lounge chair of his. All day. He only gets up to relieve himself. He sleeps there, and eats there. Of course, he only eats when I come over because that way, I could bring the food over to him."

"He starves himself?"

"I think he's just too depressed to leave his chair for something like eating."

You know how sometimes when someone says somethign and you just don't know how to respond?... Yeah.

"Angelina's really mad him isn't she?" he asks, looking over at me.

"Yeah, she is."

"Why?"

"You don't know?"

"I know it involves Alicia, but that's about as far as my knowledge goes."

I promised I wouldn't tell. But doesn't George deserve to know? I mean, Alicia was his girlfriend afterall... and Fred is his brother... No. You promised. What will Fred think of you if you went and blabbed everything? Exactly.

"I'd tell you George," I say, shrugging, "but it's not my story to tell."

"I understand," he replies, giving me a smile. "For some reason, I'm not sure I even want to hear it."

Of course you wouldn't, as it involves your ex-girlfriend.

"So I heard about you and Alicia," I say, trying to make conversation. Okay fine, it might not be the best topic, but come _on_!

He gives me a funny look. "You know, Katie, I always thought Alicia and I were going to last."

How can it last when it broke twice already?

Of course, I won't say that out loud. "Really? How so?"

"I dunno... do you ever get weird feelings you can't describe?"

Sure do.

"Like I said, I always thought we'd last. I mean, sure, maybe the first time didn't work out because we were too young and we wanted different things. I mean, we were sixteen back then. Everyone knows how dumb a sixteen year old in love can be. And then when we got back together this year, it felt great. I felt as though everything came true... I felt like everything was happening. Business was going great. my family was great, and now I'm great... and then, like before, crash and burn."

"George," I tell him, reaching over and grabbing his hand. "Alicia is an impulsive person. We all knew that."

"I just thought that this time, maybe she wouldn't blow it off because of that. I just thought I was what she wanted."

I have a feeling as if he's never communicated all his feelings about his breakup to anyone. Oh well... it can't hurt to listen, can it?

"I don't understand her," George mumbles, grasping my hand tightly. "I thought we were going good. And then out of the blue, she just... leaves. You know what she said to me when she left? She said we didn't click. _Didn't click_!"

"Did she explain herself?"

"_No_! She just said we didn't click and walked out that door! How did we not click? For those few months we were together, _everything_ clicked! And then she just says nothing clicks at all! You know, I had a feeling this would happen. She's never been in a relationship longer than a year."

And let the bitterness begin.

"She is so impossible!" he cries, letting go of my hand, using his other hand to comb through his hair. "Yes, I thought she was the one. But there are so many things going on with her that I've had to put up with!"

Well, at least he's getting some steam off.

"She was constantly nagging at me! Always there _nagging_. Worse than my own mother, and everyone knows how much of a nag my mother is! She was always telling me that I had a weird way of eating, always eating the vegetables before the meat! She said I made loud noises when I brushed my teeth! She didn't appreciate many of my friends!"

Well, everyone knew Alicia was a picky person...

"I mean,_ fine_! You can go insult me for all I care, but look at yourself! She has the loudest snore! She makes funny noises when she blows her nose! She cooks _zucchini _for Merlin's sake! I have told her a_ million_ times how much I _hated_ zucchini! She never listens to me. Sure, I don't like some of her friends, but at least I treat them with respect! You know what she does when she sees my friends? She sneers at them! She _sneers_!"

Who knew George Weasley could be so bitter.

"Good grief, Katie! That woman was a conspiracy within herself! She was so indecisive! It took forever when she went out to by a pair of robes! _Robes!_ Who the_ fuck_ spends _four hours_ deciding what cut of robe they want? And who cares what cut it is, nonody cares! _Nobody_ is going to look down your friggin robe and see how it's _cut_! Nobody cares, as long as it covers yourself! Oh my god!"

"Well, George, no one is perfect," I offer, giving him a small smile. "Alicia isn't perfect, even though she may seem like it. She has flaws. We all have flaws."

He's gone silent. With this thinking face on. I know that face. It's his face where he takes time to contemplate all that's been happening around him. I don't think he ever took the time to think about his break-up with Alicia. Well, at least he's doing some thinking now.

"You know, I never really thought about any of this until now," George says, as if reading my mind. "Never thought about my break-up. Alright fine, I have, but not like this. Before, I was just thinking of how miserable she made me. But now that I think of it..."

"She doesn't seem that perfect anymore?" I suggest quietly.

"Exactly. Maybe she wasn't really that one person I was suppossed to spend my life with. Well, not maybe. She just _isn't_."

"It's okay to be bitter about it, George." I pat his hand, giving him an encouraging smile. "I mean, everyone takes time to heal."

He looks up at me, with a confused face on. "You know what, Katie?"

"What?"

"I miss Maurie."

Oh no. Oh _nooooo..._ No, he isn't suppossed to say that -

"I really did like her! We had such a good relationship before Alicia came and she started to flirt. Yes, I admit it was wrong of me to flirt back and break it off with Maurie, but I miss that girl. She was everything Alicia wasn't."

Why does he need to say these things _now_?

"She never nagged at me. We had similar views on so many things. She never cooked zucchini, and even if she did care about robe cuts, she didn't take four hours. She was polite to my friends... she was pretty. She was wonderful."

"And she's not yours," I blurt out, before I can stop myself.

"What?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "She's not available?"

"Oh George!" I sigh, shaking my head at him. "It's really your own fault for everything."

"I know that," he tells me, biting his tongue incase he says more to offend me.

"Maurie really liked you. Don't get me wrong. But then you started to flirt with Alicia and everything and then she gave up and now - "

"Now what?"

"She with my co-worker."

"And who's that?"

"A guy called Jason Jameson."

"Don't know him. Can I meet him?"

"He's off for the day."

"Oh."

"He treats her well, George. He's so dedicated to her. He'd risk his life to save hers. And you blew her off for some flirt. I don't mean to sound harsh to Alicia, but she's not in my good books at the moment so I _will_ bash on her."

He gives me a crooked smile. "Bash away, my dear."

"Maurie is a good person! Sure, the two of us aren't exactly the best of friends, but honestly George! She really liked you! And you just went and ignored her for Alicia! What the hell is _wrong_ with you?" I reach over and slap him on the head as he winces from pain. "And now you're too late, Weasley. So don't you go trying to break her off with Jason! Because they are perfect together and nobody neeeds any more drama around this friggin place."

He looks down, clutching his head, mumbling under his breath. At least I told him. He's not going to go break up Jameson and Maurie. As annoying as Jameson can be these days, it's nice to know he's happy. And it's nice that he's nice to me.

"But I thought she liked me," he finally says, looking up at me. "How can you be so sure she prefers this Jason person over me?"

I roll my eyes at him. "Don't sound pompous, George. But believe me, she does."

"But how do you know?"

"Because! Jason gives her the attention she deserves, and more. Jason doesn't ignore her when she feels like talking, and he fully listens to her. They are the most compatible pair you will ever meet so, really, don't tear them apart or I will hunt you down and hurt you."

"I believe you!" he laughs, holding up his hands in mock defeat. "Sheesh, I wasn't even going to go chase Maurie. I have this feeling as if she really resents me."

"She doesn't. She doesn't hold anything against you. She's too happy to be sad."

"Hmmm." He drums his fingers lightly on my desk, looking as if all the steam is out of him. I'm quite happy that he's expressed his anger. Merlin knows what was going on in that brain of his.

"Katie, I'm going to need to cancel our tea for today!"

Both mine and George's heads shoot up as we see Nasuada at the foot of my cubicle, looking out of breath, panting and clutching her stomach.

I can see George out of the corner of my eye, looking at her with interest. _Men_! Honestly, they dart from woman to woman!

As Nasuada catches her breath, she looks up and jumps back a foot. She peers at George, giving him a look of surprise.

"Nasuada Keele?" George questions, his head tilting to the side.

"_Um..._" she answers, not sure of what to say.

"George Weasley," he replies, jutting out a hand. She takes it uncertainly, looking at me and back to him.

"Why, Nasuada, must you cancel our tea?" I ask, feeling a bit put off. I was looking forward to this tea all day.

"Work," she says, rolling her eyes at me. "My boss claims there was some mess up with the Knight Bus, and now everyone's using Floo so we need more monitors and all that. I'm really sorry! I'll make it up to you!"

"Don't worry about it now, just get back to work." I wave my hand dismissively.

"Yes, I need to do that," she says, more to herself than anyone. Slowly, she gathers herself up and walks out of the cubicle.

"Nice to meet you!" George calls after her. She turns around and gives him a small smile, before disappearing down the halls.

As George turns back to face me, I say, "Don't even _think_ about it."

"_What_!" he cries, giving me a face of hurt. "I _wasn't_!"

"Oh, you _so_ were."

"No I wasn't!"

"Yes, you were!"

"No I - okay, you know what? I'm going to stop arguing with you before we start sounding like Jean and Antonin."

I smile at his little joke. I miss those kids.

As if reading my mind he says, "They miss you. They're alwasy talking about you. A bit annoying, but sweet."

"Oh, don't you go trying to change the subject on me, George Weasley. I saw that look you gave Nasuada. And anyway, how on earth did you know her name?"

"We _did_ go to school together," I tells me, rolling his eyes at me.

"But how would you know her? She was in _my_ year, and she wasn't _exactly_... popular."

"Well, not popular amongst the women, I suppose." He cocks up an eyebrow, making me wince in disgust.

"What the fuck is _that_ suppossed to mean?"

"Many of us men thought she was quite a spectacular looking girl, especially for one in Ravenclaw. You don't find many lookers in Ravenclaw, since their faces are buried in books. Well, excpt for Cho Chang, but whatever."

"She has a boyfriend," I say, opening up his present that he had given me earlier. Candy! What a lovely boy, to give me candy.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He smiles an evil smile at me, taking a piece of candy from the box.

"Just in case you'd ask her out, she has a boyfriend. So don't go having thoughts about her."

"I've had thoughts about her_ long_ before you came to town, Katie Bell. And so have many of the male race."

"You're so gross."

"It's in my nature to be."

"But if it helps," I say more quietly, "I think she deserves better."

At this comment, we both look at each other, trying to read each other's thoughts. What! Sure, I like Nasuada's boyfriend. To an extent. But really! She could do so much better if she put her mind to it.

Finally tearing away from my gaze, he sits up more properly in his seat, grabbing another piece of candy. "So."

"So," I repeat, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms.

"Hows everything, dear Katie?"

"Everything's fine."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"So how's life?"

"Hectic, but who's life isn't these days."

"How's work?"

"Boring as usual."

He gives me a wicked grin. "How's Oliver?"

"Oliver's fine, thanks." We both freeze, as another figure comes into the cubicle. I not the one who answered his last question.

It's Oliver who did.

Oh dear Merlin, it's Oliver! He's_ here_! In my cubicle.

"Hello, George," Oliver greets, a mild tone in his voice as he comes in and smacks George in the head.

"Why does that keep happening today?" George grumbles massaging his head and getting off the chair.

"It's your own fault for acting like an idiot," Oliver replies lightly, taking George's seat, giving me a smile. "Hello Katie."

"Funny," George says sarcastically, making a rude gesture at the back of Oliver's head. "I think I'll be off."

"So soon?" I ask, standing up a bit. Don't leave. Please don't leave. He's going to leave. And if he leaves, that means I'm alone with Oliver. And I'm not ready for that yet.

"Yes, Katie, I'm going to leave. I need to get back to the store anyway, since Fred's not there and I've left it to two new workers. Need to get going before they ruin everything. Turrah!"

He's about to stride out of my cubicle before turning back to me. "So about Nasuada - "

"I'll invite you to lunch with us one day," I tell him, shaking my head.

"Right!" He turns around and walks out.

Silence. There is complete silence in this cubicle of mine. I'm trying to avoid looking at him. I _don't_ want to look at him.

Yes, you do.

Stop it.

Fine, but you do.

Oh, shut up.

Taking a brave stab, I give Oliver a glance. And he's staring right at me. Boy, is this uncomfortable.

"So," I say, breaking the ringing silence.

"So..." he starts, clearing his throat. "How have you been - "

"I'm fine," I answer quickly, sitting forward and looking at him. "Why are you here?"

He gives me a startled look. "What do you mean?"

What does he mean, what do I mean? "Oliver, I haven't talked to you in probably a month or more. You haven't been to visit, you've been completely silent. You don't just pop up and expect everything to be normal just like that. Follow?"

"Yes, I follow," he replies, giving me a frank look. "But I just thought we'd discuss a few things."

"Oh? Like what?"

"Just wondering a few things lately."

"Wondering what?"

"Why you're so stubborn."

"I'm not stubborn!"

"Fine. Dense."

"I'm not dense!"

"And why you're so hard to negotiate with," he says with a smile.

I glare at him. I am not hard to negotiate with. I'm not! Really!

"But let's get serious," he says, leaning back into the chair, folding his arms together. "I just want to know why you don't like me that way."

Is he serious? "I already told you why."

"No, you told me why you _can't_ like me. I want to know _why_?"

What the hell? "It's the _same thing_!" I cry exasperatedly.

"No, not really. Why don't you like me? Do you think I'm rude? Or is it because I'm too good looking?"

I give him a look. "No," I say, my eyes sharpening with morose. "You're not too good looking."

"So you think I'm ugly?" he asks, tapping a finger on his chin. "Is that it? I always thought chicks digged the lookers."

"Women, Oliver. _Women_. And no, you're _not_ ugly."

"So you think I'm pretty?"

"So you think you're feminine?"

"Oh, stop tagging everything along, Katie. You think I'm pretty."

"No, I don't."

"Alright - cute then."

"I - "

Damn. Can't really deny that one without flushing. Oooh this guy makes me so mad.

"You think I'm cute," he says, his face lighting up immediately. "What else do you think I am?"

"Nothing!" I cover my face with my hands. "I don't think about you!"

That's a lie. A downright lie. Oh well... he can't see my face anyway...

"Really." It's more of a statement than a sentence. "Hard to believe."

Uncovering my face, I narrow my eyes at him. "Don't be so full of yourself, Oliver."

"Well, I just find it hard to believe that you don't think of me."

Oh, that's it. "Fine! You know what else I think you are? I think you are a pompous, arrogant, cheeky little dick who makes the most _un_funniest jokes!"

He smiles at me. "Yes, I must admit that I am a bit egotistical."

Who the hell admits their faults so willingly?

Yes, that's right. Only Oliver Wood.

"Did you know that you're also a big jerk sometimes?"

"Yup."

"And you're so willing to admit your faults?"

"Sure, why not? I'm no perfectionist. Neither, I must say, am I like you."

Immediately, my eyes narrow on him. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, Katie," he says, giving me a gravely look. "You are jumpy. You have a hard time expressing yourself. You hide your feelings too much. You never take any chances."

"That's not true! I so do take chances..."

"By all means, prove me wrong."

My brows dig deep as I glare at him. I take chances! If I didn't, then I wouldn't be making mistakes, right? And I'm positive that I've made a lot of mistakes.

"Oh, _stuff you_," I mutter, crossing my arms tightly around myself, not able to think of anything. Fast thinking shouldn't be used when you're angry.

He gives me a small smile. "It's nice to be back on speaking term with you."

"We are _not_ on speaking terms."

"We're speaking to each other, did you notice that?"

"Well, we're sill _not _on speaking terms."

"Then what terms are we on?"

"Nothing. We're not on _any_ terms period."

"Why are you angry with me?" he inquires, leaning forward. "What exactly is it that I've done this time to provoke such manners from you?"

"Nothing."

"Just tell me."

"Nothing!"

"Why don't you ever tell me things that concern me?"

"Because it's nothing!"

"Typical."

"I don't follow."

"I didn't expect you to."

"Oliver, why are you here?" I ask, tiredly rubbing my temples together. "What is it that you want from me?"

"I want to settle things between the two of us."

"Did you notice, that lately, all we've been doing is settling things between ourselves? Because all we've been doing is arguing."

"I don't think this is an arguent. Do you?"

"Fine. Disagreements."

"Well, maybe this is a more important disagreement."

"How?"

"Because I meant what I said."

I give an even deeper sigh. This isn't how this is suppossed to be. He's suppossed to never show up ever again, and I'm suppossed to sit here, angry that he won't ever show up again. And now he's shown up. See what happens when things don't go according to plan?

Well, actually, if I wanted things to go as planned, I would have never met up with him again. Or, maybe I would have met up with him at that dumb party, but he would never seek me. If he had never kept his promise to come find me, not only will everything still be normal, none of this would have happened. Maurie would still be with George, while Jameson would still be a piss-ass, Fred and Angelina would be happily married, living together and expecting their first child, and I would still be here, normal.

Of course, I can't really blame everyone else's problems on Oliver... I mean, if I look at it clearly, he has nothing to do with everything that's been happening for the past few days, or weeks.

And this is why you should never meddle with problems other than your own.

But then, how would I have friends?

Alright, time to stop thinking about all this and focus on what's in front of you. Or, technically, _who's_ in front of you.

"I meant what I said," he repeats, looking at me with a face I can't put into words.

"I know," I say quietly, looking down at my hands.

Silence. I hate awkward silences. I steal a glance at him, to find that he too is staring down at his hands. Aw great. Now he's got his sad face on again.

"So..." he says, looking up at me.

"What now?" I ask nervously, wringing my hands together under the table, away from view.

"I dunno..."

"Nothing's going to change - " I start, but am cut off by him.

"What about you?" he asks, raising a brow at me. "How do_ you_ feel?"

"Feel about what?"

"About me."

"I - "

What do I feel about him? Oh, how the hell should _I_ know?

You like him.

Oh shut _up._

I _know_ you do.

Go away.

Just_ tell_ him.

Yeah right.

I don't know. Of course I like him! What sane female wouldn't? Sure, he may not be astoundingly attractive, but he's got his own something. And besides, he's a good person. Of course, he can get extremely snobby, but... I suppose that's expected with a famous person. But then again, he always did act a bit snobby back in school too...

"I don't know," I whisper, avoiding his gaze.

I hear a deep sigh eminate from him. "As always."

"Well, I'm sorry!" I cry, clutching onto the ledge of my desk. "I'm sorry for not knowing! I'm sorry for everything I've done towards you! I'm _sorry_!"

"What I don't understand is, why can't you just accept things the way they are, and just go along with everything?"

"Not accept things the way they are?" My grip hardens on the ledge as my kncules show white underneath my skin. "_Not accept things the way they are_? If I didn't accept the way things are, I wouldn't even be here! I wouldn't be working my ass off in some shit job where I'm only acknowledged as the _lowest_ of the low! I wouldn't be letting Angelina move in with me while her estranged husband sits at home, feeling depressed. I wouldn't be here, letting Alicia walk away without getting what she deserved! I wouldn't be living in some too cramped apartment with an _irritating_ pregnant woman, two owls and a Scandanavian floating fish!_ I_ go along with everything! _Nothing_ goes along with me! If I didn't accept the way things are, I don't know what the_ fuck_ I'm doing then."

I breathe heavily as my steam runs off, and I'm left with nothing to say. He just looks at me with hardened eyes.

"I didn't know Angelina was living with you," he comments. "I didn't know your argument with Alicia was that big. I'm sorry to put you under more stress than you're already in."

"Yes, well," I mutter, not knowing what to say. "Stress is just a factor."

"You're only twenty-two, Katie. Aren't you a bit too _young_ for stress?"

"Everyone's going to feel stressed at least once in their lives. Maybe I'm just starting early."

"Glad I'm not you," he says, giving me a grin. "And because I'm not you, I can ask you something."

My eyes sharpen towards him. "Ask me _what_?"

He shrugs. "Ask you out to dinner."

Ah, so he's still pursuing this I see.

"So, you wanna go out for dinner some time?" he asks, giving me his big gigantic eyes. Those same eyes that make you pity him. The ones that make you want to punch him so bad, but you can't because he's already been wounded. Again. I swear, he's going to use that look against me for many more times to come.

"I don't know, Oliver," I tell him, biting my lip. How did I get from angry and stressed, to nervous and confused?

"Well, _I _do!" he announces, grinning at me once more. "When are you free?"

"I don't know, Oliver! I haven't checked my schedule - "

"Fine, fine. Next Saturday, at seven, I'm going to take you out to dinner."

"But I have to work - "

"Nonsense. I know that your job ends at five every day."

"But you don't know where I live - "

"Where do you live?"

"I'm not telling_ you_!"

"Why not!"

"Because!" I stammer, my hands pulling at each other.

"Because..." he says, leaning forward, hand on his chin.

"I don't know!"

"Will you stop saying that fucking line, and just tell me where you live?"

"What! I do not - "

"Now is not the time to be offended, but to tell me your address, my dear."

"Oliver - "

"Yes Katie?" he asks sweetly, giving me his most charming smile.

"I'm not sure if I really want to go - "

"Yes you are. I _know _you are. I mean, what sane girl wouldn't want to get with this?" he asks, thumping on his chest, and laughing while he does so.

I bite my tongue. Think about this, Katie. A date with Oliver Wood. Do you _really_ want to risk your friendship with him?

As if reading my mind, he says, "Come on, Katie. Take a chance, for once. Maybe good will come out of it. And if it doesn't, I'll make sure it will."

"As seet as that sounds, Oliver, I'm not entirely sure I want anything to come between us - "

"Can you honestly say we were that close in the first place?"

The dude has a point.

"Just say yes!" he says encouragingly, taking my hands from the table. "_Please_?"

"Why are you so interesting in having dinner with me?" I ask, not taking my hands away from his grasp.

"Because no fair maiden should go without a knight in shining armour," he replies, white teeth flashing at me.

I roll my eyes. "I'm no maiden, nor are you a knight."

"I was just trying to sound heroic to impress you."

I jut my lower lip, not knowing how to reply to that comment. He does seem qutie eager to take me out to dinner...

I feel my hands shake. I look back at him, to see him giving me that wounded look once more. "Please?"

"Don't do that - "

"_Pleeaase_?"

"Oliver, I'm serious - "

"So am _I_!"

"I don't - "

"Yes, you _do_ know! So why don't you just come out and admit the fact that you want to come out to dinner with me?"

I grumble under my breath, giving him the most evil look I could muster at the moment. "9351 Rolting Road, apartment 72."

He gives me a look of satisfaction. "_See_? I knew it all along."

"Don't be so full of yourself," I mumble, but I can't help smiling back at him.

"Next saturday, at seven, I shall be at your apartment."

"I'm so excited."

"Of course you are," he says, rolling his eyes at me. "You're having dinner with _Oliver Wood_."

"Lucky me."

"Yes, lucky of you, Katie Bell. It will be the best dinner you've ever had, I promise! And I'll even order some take out for Angelina, since I heard pregnant women like eating."

"You could bring her a box of pumpkin pasties when you come over," I suggest, thinking back on how she ate most of my own box.

"Sure, if she likes them," he says, giving me a weird look, which I shrug to. "Well, it's time for me to go now!"

"But you just got here - "

"Actually, I was suppossed to be training but instead, I skipped out to come talk to you."

"You know," I tell him, shaking my head at him. "I've just realized that every time you come to talk to me at my work, you're always bolting out the second everything's back to normal."

"Because I need to make sure everything is back to normal for me to get back to practice," he says, tilting his head to the side.

"You could always just attend to practivce first and come see me later."

"Nah... I wouldn't feel settled. Besides, you should be flattered that I skip out on practices just to meet up with you. I get quite a few punishments."

"Like what?" I ask, interested in what he goes through as punishment to visit me.

"Oh, you know, the regular stuff," he says lightly, standing up from his chair and pushing it back towards the desk. "Extra laps, pushups, refinement to games - "

"You get _refinement_ to _games_?" I cry, astounded.

"Oh, it's all worth it, to settle things with you." He gives me one last wink, before he disappear down the hall towwards the exit.

I shake my head once more, smiling as I do so. That guy... he really _is_ something in his own self, isn't he?

So, I'm going to go out for dinner at seven with Oliver Wood, who now knows not only where I work, but where I live. Eh, it could be worse.

Besides, any girl would want to be in my place, wouldn't they? Out on a dinner date with Oliver Wood!

Oh good Merlin, I'm going on a date with Oliver Wood.

Brace yourself, kiddo, it's going to be one night you won't forget. And even if you do, he'll make sure you won't.

I have this feeling like I should be nervous, not giddy. But for some reason, I can't help smiling.

* * *

i also must thank everyone who reviewed with advice. i really did take it to heart. and a loooove you guys for being concerned!

as for that boy, you ask? i'm not sure even what to say. so for those interested, read on, for those who aren't - well, please review on the story itself at least.

so everything was going great, i went back to school and all, feeling better and just being myself. that guy was in my history group, so i guess we had some talks, mostly about history. we did this egyptian wall art too, and he made small talk. i thought things were going to evolve from there... but um... no.

remember how i said my friends told me about him?

so that friend of mine, who noticed first, is... not really one of my closest friends. i just met her through my best friend - who claims she's totally 'cool' - and started to talk to her in december where she told me that guy liked me. now, she and him have been friends since kindergarden... so they've known each other for about... twelve years.

anyway, there's a semi-formal coming up in our school. and she got two tickets, thinking she'd find someone to go with her, but no. so she asks the guy if she'd go with him. my best friend told me.

now, this girl has been getting on not only _my_ nerves, but the nerves of my best friend as well. lately, every conversation she holds with us seems to be solely about her, and if we bash on her, she gets mad. quick to anger, let's just say.

oh, by the way, she likes him too.

i mean, why the hell would you go around, telling me that he likes me and getting me all worked up, and in the end, you ask him out to the semi-formal and tell me you like him? i dont get it.

if she likes him, she should just tell him, and not get _me_ involved. i was doing fine before anything happened.

some friend, huh. and she acts like I'M the one who ruined her, saying that i've ruined her chance of ever being with him.

girls really _are_ bitches sometimes.

well, he told her no to semi-formal. and now she's all upset and everything, and he's avoiding me because he still thinks she and i are friends. goody.

so that's my life throughout january. i don't want anything anymore. i don't want to know who likes me, and i don't care. i hate drama. especially this kind of drama.

but whatever... i guess some girls have been through worse, have they not? it's quite sad that i've lost him as a friend, because he really was a nice person. he helped me open my bottle of water. (yeah, i'm not strong enough to open a bottle of water). and he really was funny.

well, before i start getting sad and angry, i'll just leave and request that you **review!** don't worry, long ones are always preferred to short two-liners.


	15. All Fanned Out

**a/n:** okay, so wow. like, update?

yes yes. an update. O i know, i know. who'd have thought? so like, here it is. NOT AS LONG AS THE USUAL, but better than nothing, i suppose? apologies at the rear.

* * *

This is just the weirdest thing ever. Here I am, Katie Bell, on a date with Oliver Wood. What are the odds that I'd actually allow myself to go on a date with Oliver Wood?

Come on, people. Oliver Wood! Famous Keeper of the Wimbourne Wasps. The biggest hearthrob in the quidditch world! Number seven on the Top Ten list of Bachelors in _Witch Weekly._

Oh my - I'm on a date with _Oliver Wood_.

Now, don't get me wrong - I'm not giddy. I'm not. It's just that I find it quite fascinating how he managed to talk me into this thing.

So is Angelina, as a matter of fact.

So when I told her last night - and yes, I chose to tell her last night - she totally started shrieking. Which I don't get. Why the heck would she be shrieking just because I'm going on a date with someone we've both known since school? Beats me. But she started shrieking, and then started saying something that I didn't hear, dueto the fact that her shrieks are very high in pitch.

And then, like a pregnant woman with mood swings, she suddenly turns mad on me, accusing me of not telling my own best friend until the night before that I have a date with some famous dude. Which I then chose to tell her she was not my best friend. Which was definately the worst thing I could've said to a jizzed off pregnant lady.

I know Angelina's still mad at Alicia right now. But I know she misses her. And I know that no matter what happens, her best friend will always be Alicia, and not me. And I accept that - being best friends with either Angelina or Alicia has a price to it which I don't really want to give. I'm happy with my own best friends, who at the moment are George and Nasuada. But I guess I shouldn't have told Angelina she wasn't my best friend, considering the fact that she's chosen to shut out the two most important people in her life.

Well, at least she's not mad now. I swear, that woman's mood swings everywhere at any given fucking time! One minute she's mad, then she's all elated, then depressed, and back to happy. I don't get it. The smallest things set her off. Like right before I left for my date, I asked her if she could help me feed the owls and then she starts crying, saying I don't appreciate her enough.

It's not like she's married to me! She's married to _Fred!_ Geez.

Speaking of Fred, he's finally left that chair of his. And moved on to the bed. George has been there to see him numerous times. I almost convinced Angelina to go, but then she decided against it, saying she wasn't ready. Whatever.

But on a happier note, I'm on a date! Big smiles? Yeah!

"So where exactly is it that you're taking me?" I ask Oliver, as we stroll down a mysterious street I've never set foot in. It seems cozy, with a light atmosphere. Quite nice.

"Just a restaurant," he replies lightly, smiling to himself. "I hope you'll like it though."

"And what if I don't?"

"Then that's just too bad for you."

"Gee, aren't you the most considerate person."

"I am, aren't I?" he says putting an arm around my shoulder. "And just think of it - one day, sooner or later, you'll love me for it!"

"Maybe. We'll see."

"No, I'm pretty sure you will."

"Why's that?" I ask, looking up at him, curious.

"Well, I finally convinced you to have dinner with me. I'm perfectly sure that I'm capable of making you fall in love with me."

"Don't be ridiculous, Oliver. You can't just make someone fall in love with you. Unless you give me a love potion, which I highly doubt you would."

At my answer, he smiles widely and shrugs his shoulders.

"Are you telling me you'd actually feed me some love potion?"

"If you proved to be difficult enough," he tells me, patting my shoulder. "And besides, I could just get a free supply from the Weasleys."

"You wouldn't."

"Oh, of course not."

"I love your sense of humour," I say dryly, shrugging his arm off of me.

"I know. Everyone does," he says smugly, flexing his neck.

So here I am, walking to some destination, talking about love potions with Oliver Wood. Who'd have thought that anyone would be having a conversation about love potions with Oliver Wood?

Okay, I seriously need to stop calling him by his full name. He's my friend. I've known him since we were stupid little kids. I've seen him with a broken nose in his pajamas.

But it's Oliver Wood! He's not just good ol' Oliver, my ass of a captain in quidditch. He's Oliver Wood, the famous young and hot Keeper to the most prestigeous team in all of the United Kingdom.

And here he is, with plain Katie Bell who works under a million bosses and is never ackowledged in the work force.

And still, I don't know why he's persuing me.

"What are you thinking about?"

I pull out of my thoughts as Oliver's voice breaks through my stream. I realise that I've fallen behind in our stride, and he's at least two metres away from me.

"What?" I ask dumbly, walking quickly to catch up to him.

"Nothing. I just asked you what you were thinking of, since you seemed quite deep in thought."

"Oh."

"So what were you thinking about?"

"Oh nothing. It's really nothing."

He raises an eyebrow at me. "You know, many times when girls say they're not thinking of anything, they're usually thinking of someone of the opposite sex."

"How would _you_ know?"

"Trust me. I know."

"Oh, do you?"

"Yeah, I really do. I'll bet you seven galleons that you were thinking of some bloke."

I roll my eyes at him. "Whatever."

"You were probably thinking of me, weren't you?" he gives me a slick smile and winks.

At this, I blush a little. Thank goodness it's dark now, so he won't see that. "No."

"Well then, if it's not me you're thinking of, you must be attracted to females."

"What the hell!" I exclaim, stopping in my tracks.

He continues walking, but faces me for the whole time. "Think about it, Katie. You're on a date with me - a classical, handsome, witty guy - and you;re not thinking of me. If I were a woman, all my thoughts would be centred around me. If you're not thinking of me - which I must say is quite astonishing - you must be thinking of a female."

"Why!"

"I'm just that good looking. And if even_ I_ can't be the centre of your thoughts, you must be, in fact, gay."

"I'm _not_ gay!"

"There's no shame in being gay. Jason - "

"Jason's wtih Maurie, you asshole."

"Oh right."

He smiles innocently at me, waiting for me to catch up with him.

"I'm not gay."

"Fine. A lesbian, since you women always correct me to the rightful term."

"I'm _not!_"

"You aren't?"

"No!"

"So who were you thinking about?"

God, this guy can really piss me off sometimes!

"_You!_ I was thinking bout you, okay? Are you satisfied now?"

"Yes," he answers simply. I look over at him to see a smug smile playing on his face. What a dick.

But a cute dick, so whatever.

"You know, I think about you too," he suddenly says, as we turn a corner.

Well, I must actually admit that I did not know.

"You do?" I ask, not looking at him but at my shoes.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I dunno. You just pop into my head."

"How?" I ask, now getting quite interested in the conversation.

"It's really nothing. Stupid, actually. Weird too. I just think of you in the oddest situations."

"Tell me."

"Well, alright," he says, scratching his head as if deep in thought. "So this one time, I was out buying robes. I think it was probably two weeks ago. I went to this place called _Roberta's Anyday Robes_."

"And you thought of me... because?

"I wanted to just get some robes you could wear anytime of the day, in or out of the house. And I was about to pick up a black robe when I thought about you."

Okay, so this guy thinks of me when he's about to buy a black robe. I don't know why, but I can't make a connection to me and buying a black robe.

I give him a funny look. "I don't get it."

"Don't you remember? Back in school?"

"Um... no."

"I wore a black robe once and we were in the common room. It was just us because it was a Hogsmead trip and all our friends went and we both couldn't because you had homework and I was making quidditch plays! And then I came down with a black robe and you were sitting at one of the chairs doing your work and you looked up and me and said _'I never saw in a black robe before'_ and then... well, no. That's it."

I stare at him for a few seconds. "And that's how I remind you of me."

"I told you it was stupid."

"No, it's sweet," I say, shrugging, and looking away.

"What can I say, I'm a sweet guy," he says offhandedly, brushing his fingers on his chest.

"So Oliver, where are we going?"

"I'll tell you when we get there."

"But then I'd just read the name of the restaurant so why would you tell me then?"

"Well, just read it when we get there and I won't say anything."

"Just tell me where we're going."

"I don't want to."

"Why not!"

"It's fun to keep you antsy. You get all nervous."

I glare at him. "Fine. Just fine."

"There's really no point in getting angry anyway, Katie. We're here."

"What - "

But he grabs me by the elbow, dragging me through a rose bush. Of all bushes to pull me through, he has to pick a rose bush. Probably one of the thorniest bushes in the world. Well, the thorniest bush I know at least.

"Oliver, what the fuck - "

"See? We're here!" he anounces hand still gripped around my elbow.

"A rose bush!" I say, in a deadly undertone. "I dressed up so nicely for you, only to be dragged through a fricken rose bush!"

"What?" he says, looking over at me, with a confused expression. When he's finally gotten a good look at my state, his expression changed. "Oh! Gosh, sorry Katie."

He pulls out his wands, and flicks it over at me. And just like that, I'm good as new.

Except that I'm still pissed at the rose bush thing. Like, what the hell was that!

"I forgot you've never been herre. And I forgot to tell you it was secluded from the main streets due to the fact that main streets are too noisy and they have a live band playing here. And I forgot to tell you that my shortcut to this place was to go through that thorn bush."

I grumble my response as I follow him up the path to a well lighted little cotttage-like restaurant. It does look magnificent, with its little garden at the front, small pond with lilly pads, and ethreal glow.

"Nice, huh." I hear Oliver's voice as I take in all the sights and smells surrounding this little cottage.

"Yeah," I answer softly, feeling as if I'd disturb things if I spoke too loudly. He leads me inside the restaurant to the front, in the waiting room.

"For the whole week, I've been thinking about where I should take you. And thenI thought of this place because it's so nice and homey and I thought, who's more nice and homey than you, Katie. So I made reservations - "

"_Oh my god!_"

I look away from Oliver to the noise maker behind him. it turns out to be a group of girls - probably around my own age - staring right at Oliver. I don't think my date has noticed anything, or even heard anything, because he's still talking to me.

"I'm sorry, _what?_" I say, still looking at the girls behind him.

"I was just saying how pretty you look," he tells me, smiling brilliantly at me. I try to smile back, but those girls are still looking our way.

He eyes me suspiciously. "What are you looking at?" he asks, turning around for himself.

Seeing Oliver look at them, the girls start to gap their mouths, shriek, and walk up to us.

Great. Not only are we going to be a stalked by a crazy fan. We're stalked by a whole group of them. Crazy fans are so dumb.

"Are you Oliver Wood?" the one in front asks, once they've all gathered around us. Or, well, Oliver, since I've just been pushed back behind him.

"That's me," he answers them politely, giving them his star smile.

I hear the words _'oh my god'_ again, uttered breathlessly amongst them. They look at each other, their smiles growing wider by the second.

"Oliver Wood!" another one exclaims. "Oh my god, do you know how much I _adore_ you?"

"You're my favourite," says another one, looking at him as though she'd pounce on him any second.

"Oh my god, I wishI could take you home with me," says the last one, her eyes being thw widest.

I think Oliver's used to this treatment. Because if it were me, I'd be running away and calling security by now. But not Oliver. He smiles effortlessly and chuckles, giving his flashy smile again, and kissing each of them on the hand.

He really _is_ a star boy.

"I'm totally in love with you! Will you marry me?"

"Can you sign my shirt? I know it's not your picture, but it's better than nothing!"

"I've got a pen!"

"Oh my god, I'm talking to Oliver Wood!"

Goodness. Here I am, being shoved back further, until I'm on the other side of the room. Golly gee.

I wonder how long this is going to last.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

So, it's been at least an hour. Actually, it feels like more. I don't know how long it's been. I don't have a watch, nor do I see a clock anywhere near this place.

And to think that by now, we'd be in the middle of dinner, having a nice conversation.

Okay, so maybe I'm not in a conversation. But my good ol' date is.

The four crazy fan girls are still here. But now it's not only them. A whole crowd of adults, youths and people in their twenties have showed up, men and women. Even reporters and photographers from the Prophet have shown up, crowding around him.

And I'm still here, waiting silently, sitting in a far too stiff stool, legs swinging back and forth.

To say I have patience is an understatement.

For the whole entire time, all I've heard were _'I love you, Oliver!'_, _'Marry me!'_, _'You're fantastic on a broom!'_, _'He has the cutest smile!'_ and so on. And I'm getting a bit annoyed. Okay, not a bit. I'm annoyed a _lot._

"Oliver, what are your plans, now that the season is coming to an end?" I hear a reporter ask him, while the crowd remains silent to hear him speak. Only the sounds of hushing, soft squealing and cameras clicking are heard.

"Oh, I was just going to take some time to relax," I hear Oliver's response. "Spend some time with friends and family, taking care of my pets - " I hear the crow coo at this comment about pets, "- and I was going to just hang around. Get to know myself before climbing on that broom again."

"That's quite wonderful. but what on earth are you doing in such a restaurant alone?" the reporter asks, looking around the crowd.

"Oh, no," Oliver answers, giving a small laugh. "I'm here on a date."

"A date?" the reporter questions, looking at him. I can see the looks of a few women falter.

"Yes, on a date. With a spectacular girl."

Oh, don't even try to butter me up with your words. I'm still pissed off.

"And who is this spectacular girl?" the reporter asks, leaning in on him.

"It's really none of your business," he tells her, looking very closed.

I see him beckoning to a waiter on the side. The waiter walks over pompously to him, as Oliver whispers something in his ear. Once finished, the waiter makes a small little bow to him and disappears into the restaurant.

I turn away from Oliver and his fanbase, my hands clasped together.

It's not entirely his fault that he's surrounded by all those people. I mean, if I were famous, the same thing would probably happen to me too. And how would he know that there'd be a crowd hanging around? I can't put the blame totally on him.

But then, what if he's forgotten about me? I mean, he might as well have, considering the fact that I've been sitting here forever, waiting until the crowd subsides. I'm still angry though. Here I am, finally agreeing to a date with him, and I'm shunned for crazy girls who want to marry him.

"Excuse me, miss?" I feel a tap on my shoulder.

I spin my head around to see the same waiter Oliver had whispered to, looking discrete.

"Yes?"I say, looking at him curiously.

"Mr. Wood gives his most sincere apologies about the long wait. He wishes you to meet him in the room he's reserved for you, instead of waiting here. You can order a few drinks."

Well, I can't say that this idea is worse. At least in a room,I can cool down with a few drinks and sit in a chair that I could lean back in.

"Um, sure. Okay," I answer awkwardly, as he leads me to the back, in a small room with a candle that has melted almost fully, two chairs and a dim light.

"Anything to drink, miss?" the waiter asks, turning to me from the doorway.

"Just some champagne would be nice, thank you."

He nods and disappears, leaving me once again alone.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Maybe my patience level wasn't as high as I assumed it would be.

After about another long term of what seemed to be an hour of waiting, I gave up. Asking the same waiter if I could exit through a back door, he had led me outside and had given me directions to Diagon Alley.

Apparently, this restaurant - I think it was called _Frannie's_ - is in diagon Alley. Just how Oliver said, not on the main street and a bit secluded for privacy.

So where am I? Well, I went out to get a small coffee from _Aidan's Cafe_, and am currently sitting on a bench near the park. The park, being the fursthest site away from that restaurant.

I'm not bitter. I'm just a bit put off.

I mean, why ask me to wait in a room if you're never going to fucking show up, leaving me alone in some small cramped up room, with the candle being replaced twice because it's burnt out from being lit too long? Damn it, I'm so mad right now.

What was I suppossed to do, kick it out for the whole night and wait until he shows up? No, he asked me to the date, and then expects me to wait the whole night until his cameras stop rolling! I'm not some... retarded woman who will do anything to keep a guy, just because he's famous. I don't care how fucking famous he is! If I'm asked to go out on a date, I expect the date to actually be _present!_

Instead of having a romantic candlelit dinner, I'm here, drinking half burnt coffee, sitting on a bench, in a skirt and thin blouse! I swear, after this coffee, I'm just going to go home.

Stupid guy. asking me out on a date and then totally abandoning me in a room that could be a replica of a jail cell and -

"Katie Bell? Is that you?"

I whip my head around to see who the hell would be out this late. I grab my wand just in case.

"It's just me, Alan. Remember? Alan Bellesque? Met you a few months ago at that party."

After a few seconds of registering who Alan Bellesque was, my memory snapped together. "Alan? I haven't seen you in _ages!_"

He smiles at me and takes a seat next to me. "I guess you can say I've been a bit busy."

"You're a quidditch player. Of course you're busy."

"Well, if I knew you wanted to see me, I could've not been busy."

I smile at his little comment. "Well, this is better than nothing I suppose. It's really good to see you."

"What did we even do the last time? I don't think I remember."

"You took me out for tea and we talked about Beaters and Chasers and then you walked me home - "

I stop at mid-sentence, surprised that I would remember such details. I look over to Alan, who seems just as surprised, but looking quite happy.

"Who knew you'd remember me so well? Aside from a few seconds ago when you blanked out on my name," he says thickly. shaking his head.

"No!" I cry, laughing at myself. "It's not my fault I haven't seen you in like, forever! Well, now that I remember, I remember eveything."

He smiles widely at me. "So katie, what are you doing here, on a park bench all alone, looking so pretty?"

"Oh, I'm not pretty. You're pretty."

He stares at me, both eyebrows raised, until I've realised what I just said.

"Did I just say you were pretty?" I ask, looking horrified. He nods.

Oh my god.

"That's very nice of you, thinking I'm pretty."

"No! You're not pretty!" I exclaim, trying to erase my previous words.

"So now you're saying I'm ugly?"

"No, it's not that! I'm just saying - I don't know what I'm saying. I think you're very good looking, okay?" I say, covering my face with both my hands, hiding from more embarassment.

"You think I'm good looking?" he questions, pulling my hands away from my face.

"Yes," I mutter, refusing to look at him.

"I think you're very good looking as well," he says softly, laughing.

"You do?"

"Well, I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. But why are you here all dressed up and alone on a park bench?"

Oh great. And how am I suppossed to answer this?

"It's really nothing," I mumble, trying to steer the converation away from the topic. He gets the hint and nods un understanding.

"Would you like to do something?" he asks, after a few moments of silence between us.

I look up from my coffee cup. "I've already had my cup of coffee."

"Who cares? Have you eaten yet? Because I'm starving."

_You're not the only one._ "Well, I haven't eaten yet..."

"Brilliant!" He jumps up and offers a hand to me.

I take his hand, which feels warm to my cold one. "Where are we going?"

"I don't know," he replies, shrugging. "I'll figure it out on the way."

I smile to myself, giving him a side glance. Still as pretty as the last time. And still the gentleman.

And at least this guy wouldn't abandon me, no matter how famous he was.

* * *

**a/n:** okay, so first off, i'd just like to say something about this chapter:

please don't get mad at me. i know i keep putting them off from getting together, but i have plans. i really do. so stop sulking, for they will get together. eventually. ahaha. hm. and i swear, the next one will be so longer.

ok so apologies for the timing of this chapter. well, during march, i had this school trip to europe with my school, kay? and then, third term began so i was completely bombarded with homework and the such. projects to do with gameboards, magazines, math, history... everything.

secondly, no, it wasn't a boy that kept me. if you're even still interested in that story, it's over. i let that 'friend' have him. and then i let them both go so.. i have no contacts with either of them. / odd though the guy has just suddenly started talking to me again.

ok so anyway, during april, i decided to give up internet for pleasure for lent. meaning, internet solely for homeowkr purposes, no messenger, no no whatever.

and then in may, for some reason, my computer got gayed out and has just been fixed and reformatted. meaning i lost everything, all homeowork files, story files etc. mad? fuck yeah.

and because of june, the homework/exams/project rush creeped in and i had no time to rewrite this chapter, and so i put it all off until now. i know this probably isn't the best excuse or whatever. just don't hate me, ok?

andd thaaaaaaaaaaaanks to all reviewers. and _giddyupgal_, for giving me what i believe is 3 reminder emails to update this thing. it's funny how more people who never reviewed start to review once you put the story on hold.

but it's nice knowing that i have so many fans out there. like oliver. ahahahahaha... kay.

and to **NothingToulouse**, yes, of course you can translate this thing into german! i'm actually _really really really flattered_ that someone would actually like this story so much. and... thanks to others for the threats of taking over this story and making it into their own because of my update lack.

oh, if you translate this thing to german, do i still get some credit?

anyway, to motivate me into quicker chapters guys... **review.** give me _long_ ones. i gave you long chapters. you give me long reviews. it's like, the best bargain in the whole entire world, seriously. )


	16. Accusations Don't Know How to Face Them

**a/n:** oh em gee. i've updated! congratulate me, guys. i'm freakin awesome. so here it is, the next chapter installed, much longer, and everything you've asked for. well, _hopefully_ everything you've asked for.

* * *

I must say that last night was pretty great after what happened beforehand. I mean, it was actually awesome.

Alan had taken me back to his home, for he had warned me that reporters and cameras were trying to hunt down as many quidditch players as they could. Of course, I knew that, although I didn't say anything. I don't know why, but I just felt as if I shouldn't be saying anything.

He cooked for me. No one, since my mother, has cooked for me! And I must say, he's a pretty decent cook, for someone who doesn't do it often. It was nice of him to do it for me.

He also showed me his house, which isn't as big as the average quidditch player. When I asked him why his house wasn't so big, he replied with a "it's pretty pointless when you're always out touring." I fully agree with him. Why the heck would you want this big gigantic hosue if you're not going to live in it?

I was also surprised that he had no house elf, because his house was... cleaner than the average... clean house? Well, whatever, it was clean.

And by the time dinner was served, we had stormed up a conversation about family, jobs, friends, aims and everything else. It felt so... I don't know. I can't really describe my feelings. All I know is that I'm content. And I wouldn't mind having another conversation with him.

Oh yes, I also spent the night at his house.

And no, we didn't do anything. Honestly.

By the time we finished talking, it was probably around two in the morning, and he offered me his guest room, which was very comfortable. I should ask him where he buys his sheets. Compared to mine, they're as plush as clouds.

And after a nice breakfast at his local pub, he walked me home. So here I am, taking the stairs up to my flat for some extra time alone to think about last night. And of course, this morning.

I'm quite refreshed, to be frank.

Although, there's still that piece of guilt that lingers around me. I know that I was suppossed to be on a date with Oliver, and ended up going with his friend and fellow team mate. But I couldn't help it. I was just so angry, and there he was, the knight in shining armour. Come on, give a girl a break. Any sane, normal person would've gone with the latter.

Besides, it's not like Oliver would have noticed anyway. He was way too busy impressing his crowd and team of photographers. It shouldn't phase me. Compared to him, I'm really just a nothing-special girl. Yeah, that's it, a nothing-special girl. Although with Alan, it's like the roles have reversed. He treats me like the most special person, while he, a quidditch star with as much popularity as Oliver, is just any random guy who happens to have taken a liking to me. It makes me feel like as if -

"_Where the fuck have you been?_"

Well, _that _wasn't called for. I have just reached my apartment and unlocked the door, pushing it to get inside, when this strong bellow has just blown up in my face.

Unscrunching my face, I step inside only to find a very worried Angelina.

Oh, and a very... not so happy Oliver. Odd, I didn't expect Oliver to be here.

"Katie, where have you _been?_" Angelina asks, her voice frantic. She's out of her seat, and rushing over to me. She grabs me by the shoulder and starts shaking me. "I've been up all night! Right when I was about to go to bed, Oliver comes and says you weren't with him! _Where were you?_"

My eyes wander over to Oliver, who seems to be hovering between pissed off, relieved, aggravated and confused.

"I was out," I answer curtly, not wanting to give the details of my night spent with Alan. I don't want either of them knowing where I've been. And I don't want any arguments between Oliver and Alan either.

"Care to enlighten us?" Oliver asks, his voice oddly calm, but the look in his eyes anything but. He's speaking for the first time.

I stare steadily at him. "Actually, I'd rather not." And before waiting to hear from him, I yank myself out from Angelina's grip and walk into my room, shutting the door behind me.

They really don't have a right to get mad at me. I mean, shouldn't they blame themselves for once? Why is everything always _my_ fault?

Instead of having some peaceful time to myself, Angelina barges in, with a look of terror upon her face. With my fear of pregnant women, this look of hers combining with her pregnancy is not too cool.

"Do _not_ walk out on me!" she cries, standing before me in all her pregnant and 5'11 glory.

Instead of giving a reply, I cringe.

"What the _hell_ are you walking out on me for?" she demands, glaring at me.

I think I've mumbled something, because she's yelling at me. Golly.

"Do_ not_ walk out on me!" she repeats, "Do _not _give me attitude, do _not_ mumble, and _look_ at me when I'm talking to you!" she adds the last part for at the moment, I'm trying to avoid eye contact with her.

"Hello, Katie! Are you even listening to me?" she demands, after a long moment of silence. Of course I'm listening to her. I'm just not answering her.

"Don't mind Katie, Angelina. She's like that when she doesn't want to respond to you." I glare up at the door. Oliver seems to have come in, arms crossed and eyebrow raised, staring back at me.

"What the hell does _that_ mean?" I ask him, crossing my own arms.

"Oh, nothing," he replies lightly, walking into the room to myself and Angelina.

Instead of waiting for a answer, I decide to ignore his comment. "Why are you here Oliver?"

"I think it's pretty obvious why I'm here," he answers, raising a brow at me.

"No, not really."

"I'm pretty sure it is."

"Okay, enough with this crap,_ where were you!_" Angelina demands, thrusting her hands upon her hips.

Just seeing that pregnant belly jutt out sends shivers down my fragile spine.

"None of your business,"I respond lightly, giving them an airy look of defiance.

"Spit it out, woman!" she cries, looking much mroe enraged than she was seconds ago.

"Why!" I retort, trying to match my tone with hers. "Why should I tell you where I went? Why do I have to tell you everything!"

"Because best friends tell each other everything!"

"We're _not _best friends!" I say, rubbing my temples together.

The room has grown silent. Maybe Ishouldn't have said that. I sneak a look at her; she's just standing there, mouth half open, a look of shock and sadness.

_Aw shit._

"Look, Angelina,"I start, walking over to her.

But she quickly steps away from me, nearing to Oliver. Instead of saying anything, she stands resolutely beside the man.

"I hope you know how rude you are," Oliver comments dryly, giving me a look of disapproval.

Okay, what the fuck! Now I'm the bad guy? What the fuck did I do? All I did was tell the truth!

"Shut up, Oliver," I say quietly, avoiding eye contact with the both of them. I don't need this.

"You know, Katie, maybe _you_ should shut up," he says evenly. "You're the one going around saying completely shitty things about people who don't deserve to hear them. You're always complaining. It's all drama to you, and you soak it all up like the sun. You're immature, incompetent, and you're just so fucking selfish sometimes."

"What the_ fuck!_" I finally look up at the both of them, who are standing by the doorway glaring at me. I give them a glare to match theirs. "Suddenly, _I'm_ the selfish one here? If I'm selfish, then what the bloody fuck are _you_ two? Saints? No, fuck you! Fuck you both!"

"If you're selfish, we _are_ like saints," he mutters, not giving up.

Oh that so_ freakin_ does it.

"I'm _not_ selfish!" I cry. Suddenly, all my anger, resentment and stress from the past two months, has come to the surface, breaking free and errupting. Like a pimple."If I'm so fucking selfish to you lot, then what the fuck are you doing here?"

I look to Angelina, who seems to be agreeing with Oliver. "_Why_ are you in my apartment?" I scream, starting to breathe heavily. "If I'm so fucking selfish, why are you here? Why did I allow you to come live with me? Huh? You didn't evem fucking _ask_ me if you could live with me! You just showed up here at my fucking step with some stupid bag full of your belongings, barging in here as if it were _your_ place, not mine! Well, guess what, Angelina, it's _my_ palce!"

She seems taken aback from my harsh words. But because I'm the passionate person I am, once I'm on a roll, it's quite hard to stop.

"And what the hell are you even _doing_ here?" I demand of her, now just sounding like a maniac. "You're fucking _married,_ Angelina. _Married!_ Do you _know_ what that means? Bound together to your spouse by matrimony! It means you two are _one_. Why are you even _here?_ And to add the fact that you're _pregnant,_ _I'm_ not the one with problems. And I'm _not_ your best friend. If I was your best friend, _I _would've been the maid of honour at your wedding. If I were your best friend, you would be calling _me_ to tell me you were pregnant first. If I were you fucking best friend, you wouldn't be so fucking inconsiderate! You're married, you're pregnant, and you're living with _me!_ Have you noticed how _cramped_ it is in this fucking space? I hardly have any room for myself and you just _have_ to come here to live with me! Go fucking home and forgive your damn husband who literally doesn't deserve to be punished like this, and just go back to your _real_ best friend! Your problems _won't_ be solved here!"

I just glare at her, panting as I try to catch my breath. She looks as if she were about to cry. Now, in normal circumstances, I would feel totally like ass for saying all this stuff I've wanted to say since the begining of time, but because it isn't a normal circumstance, I'm not. I'm actually feeling quite good.

"If you felt like this, why didn't you tell me!" she suddenly says, looking at me with a full face of hurt. "Why didn't you tell me you didn't have room!"

Oh my freakin horse. Is she kidding me? "Um, reality check. Look around you, there _is_ no space here!"

And it should be obvious, what with my two owls and fish also residing here with us.

"Then why didn't you just tell me you didn't want me here?"

"What am I suppossed to do? Turn down my friend who's lost her best friend and husband in the same day? You're also pregnant, damnit! I'm not gonna say _'Sorry, no room'_ to my pregnant friend! I'm more considerate than _that!_"

"So much consideration for someone who's _screamed_ at her pregnant friend," Oliver says tonelessly.

My eyes snap to the eyesore beside the pregnant beast. "What the hell do you _want_ from me?"

"All I want to know is why you disappeared last night," he answers softly, sounding calm.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Why should I tell you?"

"You owe it to me."

"I owe you nothing."

"You run away from me last night!" he suddenly starts ranting, his voice rising. "You don't leave a message or a note of any kind. You don't come home, you weren't with any of your friends. What the hell, Katie!"

"Why do you even care?" I fight back, my fists balling with rage. "Why should you care? You didn't seem to care at all last night! Oh wait, you _did_ care. You cared for your damn media reports you asshole!"

He gives me a disbelieving look. "What the hell did you expect me to _do?_ _Ignore_ them?"

"Yes!"

"Merlin, you're unbelievable, Katie Bell. I can't go ignorig the fucking press! Bad media ruins my reputation!"

"So what!"

"So _what?_ What do you mean _'so what'?_ Bad press means I will always be targetted! My status will sink down and not only will I falter, my team does too!"

"Why do you care so much of what people think about you?" I say, shaking my head at him. "Those people don't even_ know_ you! Sure, they know who you are. You're fucking _famous,_ Oliver. Isn't that enough? What about the ones who actually _know_ you? What about _us,_ who actually _care _about you? It doesn't matter about the public! None of them know you well enough to write shit about you! It's obvious that tabloids lie anyway! But whatever man. You care too much about everyone except your friends. I mean, you'd rather put off a date to go brag about yourself."

"I _do_ care about my friends!" he tries to argue, but his voice is weak. "And if I _didn't_ care about you, I _wouldn't_ ask you out! And when you left last night, I wouldn't go through any lengths to find you! I _wouldn't_ be staying here to see if you showed up!"

"You _didn't_ go through all lengths to find me."

"What the _hell?_ What do you call contacting all your friends? Going to all the places you're known to be? Even showing up at the Ministry!"

"You didn't contact _all_ my friends," I say evenly, stepping in between the two of them to go get a drink from the kitchen.

Oliver follows me, with Angelina at his back. "Yes I did!"

"No, you didn't! Because if you did, you wouldn't have missed a very important person!"

At this, Oliver looks over at Angelina, who shrugs. All the fight seems to have gone from her.

"And who might this very important person be?" he questions, raising his brows.

"Alan!" I reply, taking a swig out of some water.

I think my answer's shocked them both. Well, no. Shocked Oliver more. I don't really think Angelina knows who the heck I'm talking about here.

"Are you speaking of the Alan I _think_ you're speaking of?" he asks suspiciously.

"I believe so," I answer, setting down my cup with a loud clack on the counter.

"You were at Alan's last night?"

"Yes sir."

"You stayed with Alan for the whole _entire_ night."

"Oliver, I think we've already established the fact that yes, indeed I was at Alan's last night. The whole _entire_ night."

He gives me a full minute stare. "How did - you were - _why?_"

"Why _not?_"

"_How!_"

"He _invited_ me, that's how."

"He - he _invited_ you." I stare at him as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "He invited you?"

"Yes."

"Alan Bellesque invited _you_ to his apartment."

"Yes."

"Alan _Bellesque?_"

"I don't know any other Alans," I tell him dryly, rolling my eyes.

"How did you meet up with him?" he inquires, suddenly calm again.

"Well," I start, sounding as calm, "I went to the park in Diagon, with a lovely cup of coffee. And I sat down at a bench. And then he just found me."

He raises an eyebrow as if he thinks I've lied. "So he just _found_ you at a park bench."

"Right."

"And then he just _invites _you to his house?"

"He invited me for some dinner. And since I didn't have any," I say, glarings at him, "and because I was quite hungry, I agreed."

"But you went to his house!"

"He cooked for me!"

"And then you spent the night at his house?" he asks, narrowing his eyes.

"It was pretty late, Oliver. So he just said if I wanted to, I could crash at his place."

"And you _agreed?_" he asks incredously, as if I were the craziest person he's set eyes on.

"It was_ past midnight!_" I claim, getting angry again. "I was tired, and he offered! He was a complete gentlemen."

"We were in a restaurant, Katie. You could've ordered something to eat if you were so hungry!"

"Haven't you heard that it's rude to eat before your guest?"

"_You _were the guest, not me!"

"Oh whatever! I was mad at you anyway! So there!"

He makes a noise of frustration. "Why were you at me! Do explain, please!"

"Are you fucking _kidding _me?" I ask exasperatedly. "Why was I mad at you?"

"Do you need me to repeat a simple question?"

I hate him. I just want to rip his face off _so_ bad right now. "I was mad at you because you were being such a total jerk!"

"And when was I being this said jerk?"

"Um, _hello!_ Were you not there last night? Oh wait. You _weren't,_ nevermind."

He gives me a sarcastic smile. "Whatever."

"Well, you weren't! I mean, you ask me to go out on a date with me, and bam - you just totally abandon me?"

"I didn't abandon you! Merlin, I gave you instructions from the waiter that you could order drinks and whatever else - "

"It's a _date,_ Oliver! I don't need _instructions_ on a _date!_ I'm not _suppossed_ to have instructions on a fucking date!"

"Well, I still don't understand why you would just walk out - "

"Why _wouldn't_ I?" I practically scream in his face. "Why wouldn't I? Where were you the whole entire night? Oh that's right. You were busy posing and signing merchandise and forgetting about _me!_"

"They're my _fans!_ I can't let my fans down!" he screams back, as if _he's_ the wronged party.

"So you can't let your _fans_ down. Just your friends. I get it."

"No - just - why the hell do you always make every situation so _fucking_ impossible?"

"Look, if you ask someone to go out on a date with you, don't you think you should actually _be_ on the date?" I ask, sighing inwardly.

"I was - "

"_No!_" I cut him off, running my fingers through my hair. "No, you _weren't!_ You were with your fans. You weren't with _me!_ You can't just treat your friends - "

"Don't tell me how to run my life!" he fights back, eyes on fire. "I don't need life lessons - especially from _you!_"

"What the hell does _that_ mean?"

"I don't think I should be getting lectured on how to treat my friends, fans and self by a person like _you!_"

"_Excuse_ me?" I give him the dirtiest look I can muster.

"_You're fucking excused!_" he bellows, hands waving everywhere in the air. "I don't think I should be getting lessons on love from a person with the absolute _lowest_ self esteem!"

"What the hell! I do _not_ have low self esteem!"

"Oh you don't? Then why do you always feel so sorry about yourself? Why do you always put yourself down? Everyone else is on a pedestal, but you're rock bottom! God, Katie! Pull yourself together and stop acting like the world's biggest bitch with panties pulled up your snatch! I'm so _sick_ of your self pity and thirst for approval! The only way to gain it is to like yourself!"

For the whole time, my mouth's been open. What is this guy going on about? "I do _so_ like myself!"

His mouth shrills of mocking luaghter. "I honestly don't think so."

I can feel my fingers cracking as my fists tremble. "Yeah, well!"

"Well what?"

"You're not so perfect either!"

"Nobody's perfect. But I'm sure better than _you!_"

How dare he say that? He is no better than me than... I don't know! Myself?

"You're no better than anybody, Oliver," I tell him venomously. "You're the world's biggest prig!"

"Oh, am I."

"Yes! You are! You think you're so good, but guess what - you _aren't!_ Being a pro quidditch athlete doesn't make anyone better than anyone. It's the way your attitude works that determines a person! And although I may be a bit naive - " he sniggers at this point, but I ignore him, " - believe me! Your own attitude needs a whole lot of fucking adjustment!"

"Don't spit on me!" he cries, wiping his shirt off dramatically.

Once again, I choose to ignore his comment. "You're so fucking _full_ of yourself, Oliver. And even though I've told you so many freakin' times, it really isn't a joke. You're too confident. One day, your asshole ways will catch up to you and screw you over so fucking bad!"

We both stand there, glaring daggers at each other, breathing heavily. I wonder if this is going to be like those situations I've read about in books. Two characters are so angry at each other and suddenly they start making out.

But obviously, _this_ isn't one of those situations.

I look from Oliver to Angelina. I almost forgot she was even present. Golly! For a pregnant fiasco, she sure knows how to stay silent at the right times.

"So... what now?" my eyes snap back to Oliver. He looks tired and wary. Even his voice has calmed down, compared to the shouting from a few moments ago.

"I don't know," I answer, rubbing my head with my right hand. "I really don't know."

"Look, Katie, I'm really sorry - "

I hold my hand up to him. "No, Oliver. It's alright."

"No, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to say all those things, I just got carried - "

"_No!_" I say firmly. "No! I'm _sick_ of this! I'm sick of _always _getting into an argument with you! I'm sick of you always apologizing to me! And I'm sick of always picking up our arguments! I don't _know _anymore, okay? I don't want to always be fighting with you! I'm sick of it _all!_"

"Katie - "

"_Don't!_ Don't try to persaude me back, because it won't do us any good! I don't _want_ to care anymore! Alright? And besides, like you said. You're better than me."

"Katie - "

"You said so yourself just minutes ago. And astonishingly, I think you're right. Here's my low self esteem taking over, but I honestly think you're better than me. There's no point in going out with me when you're better than me, right? You should be dating your equal, and get a challenge. You don't deserve me, Oliver. And _clearly,_ I don't deserve you."

I look up resolutely at him. He seems to have gone quiet. I take advantage of this and turn to Angelina.

"Angelina, I know what I said may have come out more harsh than I thought - "

"I understand," she replies, pursing her lips together.

"But I just think it's best if we take a break from... dwelling with each other -"

"Fine."

"And maybe you could give Fred another chance - "

"Are you _done_ yet?" She stares at me blankly.

I exhale slowly, looking her in the eye. "Yes. I'm done."

Done with it _all._ With all the unnecessary drama.

I _hate_ drama.

And at the moment, I _really_ hate being here.

"I'm going to be out for a while," I tell them both, suddenly grabbing for a jacket. I turn to Angelina and add, "If you're going to leave today, I just want say say; as much grief you put me through, I enjoyed your company."

And with that, I turn to leave them, not looking back.

Because _I'm done._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"I dunno Katie. Don't you think you were being a bit _too_ rational?"

"No."

It's a bright thursday afternoon. It's December now, and surprisingly sunny in London.

And I'm sitting her with George Weasley. I love this man. I truly do.

After weeks without hearing from him, he finally pops in to see me again. Although a large part of me suspects the visit is due to the fact that he wants another glimpse at Nasuada, I'm still enjoying his visit. He so far has not uttered her name.

I'm quite glad George is here. He's answered the questions I've been dying to ask.

Angelina has moved back in with Fred. A few days after our own fight. And according to George, Fred has never been better. The whole house is clean again, he's shaved, and hasn't been glued to his bed or couch. And he's been preparing for his baby like the proud father he is. As much as I love Fred, I know that as long as I stay in a fight with his wife, he and I will never be friends.

As for Oliver, he's still in contact with both Weasley twins, Angelina, Alicia and everyone else he knows. According to George, Oliver's been showing up to practice everyday. Now, this came to a suprise to me, because I always though Oliver attended every practice. Apparently, he didn't. I don't know why. Maybe he thinks he's too good. Who knows.

And we both don't know about Alicia. We're still angry with her.

Still.

"Katie, you can't just keep getting into fights with everyone," George says, shaking his head at me.

"I _don't!_" I insist, glaring at him. "They keep getting into fights with _me!_ So what am I suppossed to do, stand back and get hit? I don't think so."

He lets out a deep sigh. "By the time you're thirty, who knows if you'll still have any friends left."

"Hey! I _will_ have friends!"

"I'm just saying..."

"So are you saying you're not going to be my friend either?" I ask him, staring at him.

"Nah, you'll still have me. I can stand your tantrums," he replies smiling lightly at me.

I smile back at him, then advert my gaze to my table. This thought just totally hit me. If I keep losing friends, will I beome friendless in the future? Now that's not a very happy thought.

"You know," I comment, not looking up, "I find it a bit sad how I'm losing contact with the old crew."

"The old crew?" he asks, putting his feet up on my table.

I brush his legs off, replying, "Yeah, the old crew. You know, everyone from school?"

"You've got me."

"I know. It seems like I _only_ have you."

"You make it sound like it's completely horrid."

"Oh _stop_ that, George! You know how much I love you."

"Sorry, Katie, I'm not into you like that," he says, with an evil grin playing his lips. "Got my eye on somebody else."

"I meant as a _friend_ you bogus face! And besides, your eye is on someone taken."

"Are you even talking about the same peson I am?"

I roll my eyes at him. "I know you're talking about Nasuada. And she's taken."

He pauses a bit. "Oh, I thought you forgot about that."

"Nope!"

"Whatever, you said she could do better. And who's better than _me?_"

I honestly cannot argue. Because at the moment, no one else seems better than this bloke in front of me. Not that I like him that way. We've already established that.

"Speaking of old crew," George continues, as if there was no pause, "you've got Nasuada. She's from school."

"I know she is, but she doesn't count."

"Why not?"

"By the old crew, I meant people strictly from our house. And people I hung out with."

"Don't you have any friends from your _own_ age group?"

"Sure I do. I just never kept any contact with them. I liked you bunch much more."

He rests his hand over his chest. "I'm so touched."

"Anyway, I just feel a bit sad that everyone's gone. Out of my life."

"You only have yourself to blame, I hope you know."

"Well, we wouldn't be in this situation if they would just keep their opinions to themselves!" I cry, crossing my arms. "If they did, we'd still be friends having pic nics."

He guffaws at my comment. "Don't be full of it Katie. Even if we _were_ all friends, we'd never have pic nics. We're not the pic nic type of people."

"I swear, I can never explain something to you without you just saying something totally off topic!"

"Well, my suggestion is to just apologize to them."

"I'll apologize to all of them," I tell him, looking seriously at him, "when _you_ apologize to Alicia."

"Certainly _not!_" he says, looking indignant. "Did I _not_ explain the story to you? Did I not clearly state that _she_ broke up with _me?_ Why should _I _apologize?"

"Exactly."

"Okay new topic!" he cries, waving his arms to 'clear' away the old topic. "How was that guy?"

I give him a funny look. "Huh?"

"Oh stop pretending you don't know who I'm talking about."

"But I _don't_ know what you're talking about."

"That guy! The guy who you slept with!"

"I didn't sleep with _anyone!_" I gasp, glaring at him. What is he _talking_ about?

"The one you blew off Oliver for, nimrod."

"As if I blew him off for someone else!"

"Well, you sure as hell ran away from him into the arms of another man," he replies, raising his eyebrow at me.

"Oh, I just told you why I ran off! And you said I had the right to run away!"

"Well, I'm just full of shit most of the time."

I smile at his remark. "Can't say you're wrong about that one."

"Funny," he says dryly. "But how was he?"

"I didn't sleep with him," I say, my eyes once again becoming slits. "I slept in his house in another room. It's totally different."

"Incredible. He invites you out to eat, and insteads takes you back home and cooks for you, and also lends you a room. Incredible."

"Why is that?"

"Well, it's more of a territorial situation."

"Meaning...?"

"Isn't this guy suppossed to _friends_ with Oliver?" he questions, tapping his chin and looking distant.

"Well, they're friends," I answer honestly.

"Exactly. So shouldn't Oliver have told him that you were um... how shall I put this? Strictly _his?_"

What the hell! "_Strictly his?_ I'm no object! I'm a _person!_"

"Oh stop it, Katie. You know what I mean. You'd get territorial if _your_ boyfriend decided to flirt with one of your friends."

"I don't _have_ a boyfriend,"

"I was just saying. Anyway, put aside the fact that they're friends. They're team mates aren't they? Well, wouldn't this whole thing kinda... _ruin_ them? And then they won't play well because they're too distracted. I don't know. Oliver's a pretty big grudge holder though. He's still a bit mad at the match back when Hufflepuff beat us."

"So what if he's a grudge holder? He shouldnt hold anything agaisnt Alan when Alan never did anything to him!"

At this, he stares at me as if I were crazy. "Katie, by any chance do you _like_ Alan?"

"Of course I like Alan. If I didn't we wouldn't be friends."

George rolls his eyes and makes a sound under his breath. "I meant... do you have feelings for him? Geez."

I roll my eyes in return. "No."

For an answer, George tilts his head to the side and stares at me. Oh great. He's smiling too. What the hell man. I don't like Alan.

"What!" I exclaim, with a touch of annoyance in my voice. "Stop looking at me like that!"

"I'm not looking at you like anything!"

I give him a suspicious stare. "Well, I don't!"

I _don't!_

After a few moments of silence, George tilts his head tp the other side, a heavy grin appearing on his face.

"_What!_" I sigh, my face curling impatience.

"You like him," he says, with much emphasis on the word 'like'.

"No I don't!"

"You like him."

"I don't!"

His grin gets bigger. "You _liiiiiiiiiike_ him!"

"Oh shut up George. Even if I did, nothing's going to happen."

"I think he likes you too," he says quietly, not looking at me.

Well, _that_ I never heard. Interesting. _Very_ interesting. Alan, like me? I never thought about it. But I must admit, it's quite a possibility. I can't believe it. Alan likes me! Well, no, he doesn't like me. George just _thinks _he does. And so do I. Okay, I'm getting excited. And I know there's _nothing_ to be excited about because it's probably not even true but -

Alan Bellesque! And me! Wow, golly gee! And he's so pretty! Oh my gosh - just think of the children we'll have!

"You must be one happy girl, Katie," George comments. I can't read his expression. "Two men in the chase for you. And not ordinary men. You got two celebrities - "

"They aren't _celebrities_," I tell him dryly, rolling my eyes at him. "They're just athletes."

"Two extremely_ famous_ athletes. Which makes them as famous as any other celebrity, like the Weird Sisters. Man! They're on the most prestigious team in the whole United Kingdom! They're team mates! I wonder how much they'll hate each other now."

Aw _shit._ What if they start hating each other? And it's all because of _me!_ Well, as flattered as I am that they're fighting over me - I think - I just feel so horrible now. Gosh I'm a moron.

"And did you notice that of all players," George continues, tapping his finger on his chin, "of all players, the two most famous ones are after you? Well, two most famous on the team at least. The two most _good looking_ as well."

"I always thought Oliver was most popular," I say, more to myself than to him. "I see him almost every other week displayed on the front cover of _Witch Weekly_. And he's always in the papers - "

"Oliver's more showy. He's always been more showy. In an interview, Bellesque clearly stated that he hates public gatherings. He's camera-shy. And he likes privacy. Girls like his looks and mysterious charm. And I must admit - and don't judge me even if I _am_ a guy; I have no shame. But that Bellesque sure has one fucking hot smile."

I clearly agree with that. I mean - his smile is so... _wow._ Damnit, his whole entire appearance is so wow.

"Not that _Oliver_ isn't," he says, now stroking his chin. "Girls like his attitude towards life. He's upfront, and peopel admire confidence. Oliver's got the pretty-boy looks. Alan's got that rugged-sexy style - " I give George a funny look but he ignores me, "- and they're both really good looking. Oliver's also got the whole hero-type play going on. And he's flashy and a flirt. He makes girls swoon over him. He's a charmer."

"He's not _completely_ bad," I admit, shrugging. "He's got some good qualities too. They both do."

"I'm not implying that Oliver's bad. I'm just saying that he's more of a... how shall I put it?"

"An irresistable asshole?"

"Exactly."

I laugh, because it's right. No matter how much of an asashole Oliver is, you can't hate him. Everyone loves him, because - just like George put it - he's a charmer. He has a way to charm his way back into your good graces, and you don't even know why you forgive him for all the dick moves he commits.

I must say, Oliver Wood is one _heck_ of a guy.

And so is Alan Bellesque. Merlin, what a seductive stare he's got.

"Out of curiosity," George suddenly speaks, breaking into my thoughts. "Who would you choose?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, looking at him suspiciously. This is a trap. I _know_ it.

"Well, I mean what I mean. If you were to get together with one of them, who would you choose?"

"George Weasley, _what_ a question!" I remark, smiling and shaking my head.

"I'm just curious So answer my dear."

"I can't _choose_ between them! They're both my friends."

"Technically, only Bellesque is your friend - "

"He has a first name you know."

"Well, I watch too much quidditch. I'm used to calling him Bellesque. It's a weird transition to make, going to his first name. And since you're in an argument with Oliver, the both of you are not friends."

"Oh whatever, Mister technical."

"So who would you choose?"

"I told you already! I can't!"

He raises an eyebrow at me, as if I were kidding him.

His look immediately shifts to a sneer. "It's Bellesque, isn't it?"

"It is _not!_" I claim, trying to sound as shocked as possible.

Well it isn't. I mean, like I said. I like them both. I've known Oliver since my school days. And Alan's just one of the sweetest people on earth. He's kind, generous, attentive, polite, and really _really _good looking. Now, tell me - is he just not perfect boyfriend material? I think he is.

Okay, so I'm leaning more towards Alan. But it doesn't mean I can just _pick_ one of them out of thin air.

"It okay, Katie, I won't tell," George replies impishly, the evil Weasley smile back on his face. "Not a soul."

I make a noise. "Whatever George. You're one of my best friends, but I know you can't keep a secret for long."

"So you want me to tell anyone?"

"If you tell anyone, I will personally make sure you'll never have kids in your life."

"Excellent! After seeing what my dear brother Bill goes through, children are a total turnoff."

"I'm _serious!_" I say, laughin at his joke. "Please don't tell anyone?"

"Hand on heart, my love."

"Okay good. Because if that somehow leaks out - "

"What leaks out?"

The both of us look up quickly to see Nasuada standing at the opening of my cubicle. My eyes dart to George, who's face immediately lights up at the sight in front of us.

_Men._

"Oh _nothing, _Nasuada," I reply airly, waving my hand lazily. "Come join us. George, conjure up a chair."

George quickly follows up on my command, conjuring up quite a fancy looking chair for Nasuada. Geez. He is so in love with her.

"So!" I say, once she's finally settled down in her chair. "What brings you here?"

She gives me a strange look. "The same reason I'm always here. Taking a break and ranting about the stupidity of co-workers."

"Why _are_ they stupid?" George inquires, looking genuinely interested.

"Well," she begins, taking a deep breath. "I work in the Transportation department, right? And I specialize in the Floo Network. Well, there's this one old hag on my floor - her name's Bernice, and she just totally hates me! I swear, it's like she's trying to get me fired! She's always telling my boss that I'm not manning the Network enough, and that potential dangers are always happening due to my lack of concentration. As if I lack concentration!"

"It's true," I comment sarcastically, rolling my eyes. "She's notoriously concentrated on anything she does."

"Anyway," she continues, facing George again. I can see him from the corner of my eye. Look at him. He's just totally absorbed in her. "So today, she just totally flips off, saying how I'm the most irresponsible person on earth, and how I don't deserve such a prestigious job and all that stuff. I _do_ deserve it! I'm hard working, I concentrate, and I'm _completely_ devoted! Thank Merlin half the crew hates her guts too. If they didn't, my ass would be so fired right now. Even if I didn't do anything."

After she finishes, she looks at George, waiting for a reply. And he's just leaning his chin on his hand, with a dumb smile and googly eyes. I give him a kick.

And _that_ snaps him back to the real world.

"Well, _I_ think you're good at what you do," he tells her, looking straight into her eyes.

Instead, Nasuada laughs. "You hardly _know_ me! And you hardly even know what I do!"

"But I do know what you do. You work in this Ministry, at the Floo place."

She laughs again, shaking her head at him. "You're so cute."

"Of course I am," he replies, looking completely flattered. "I'm one of a kind."

She giggles at his comment. "You're a Weasley twin. Wouldn't that make you _two_ of a kind?"

"Well, I'm obviously the better twin."

"Yeah, _you're_ the better one," I say dryly, tracing my fingers on my desk. "That's why your brother's the one who's married. With a kid on the way."

"I'm only twenty-four. I'm not going to spend my time wiping nappies! I want to live out my own life at the moment. I'm only young once!"

"Oh my gosh - I think so too!" Nasuada exclaims, placing her hand on top of George's. "Your twenties are for yourself. We're too young to know if a marriage is going to work, let alone have kids. And yes, you are suppossed to live it out! We _are_ only youing once!"

George smiles radiantly at her.

Like, _puke._

After a moment, her face falls. "Too bad Jack doesn't think so. He says fun is for irresponsible people who are just confused about life. You should work hard until your retiring days. _Then_ you can live for the moment."

"Who's Jack?" George asks, his brow furrowed.

"My boyfriend," she replies regretfully. "I just wished he had the same views as _I_ did."

"Alas, everyone's different, lass," I say, patting her softly on the shoulders. "And people can change."

"No, not Jack. He's so stubborn."

"You mean like this one?" George asks, pointing an accusing finger at me.

"Oh whatever George!" I snap, brushing his finger away. "Everyone's allowed to be stubborn."

At this, both Nasuada and George roll their eyes. After seeing what they did, they look at each other and crack up.

I_ swear,_ if these two get together, they'll keep making fun of me.

"Anyway!" I stand up from my chair, walking over to grab my bag, going to the opening. "I know you literally just got here Nasuada. But George and I were going to go out for lunch."

"Oh!" she quickly stands up from her chair, turning red. "I'm so sorry, Katie! I had no idea - "

"Forget it," I tell her, waving off her apology. "Want in?"

She gives me a skeptical look. Her eyes flash to George and come back to me. "And you won't mind?"

"Why would I mind?" I say, giving her a funny look. "I've never minded having lunch with you."

"But you've got _company!_" she replies in an undertone, indicating to George with the flick of her head.

"He won't mind," I say, loudly so that George can hear. "Will you, George?"

"Of _course_ not!" he grins at her. "I _want_ you there anyway."

Nasuada blushes at his comment. "Oh! Well, that's very kind of you."

"I'm quite a kind person," George says, getting out of his own chair, leading Nasuada past me down the hall. "Im very enchanting too. Did you know that?"

"Of course I knew that," she replies, giving him a radiant smile. "You're George Weasley. Much talked about amongst the girls back in school. Even the Ravenclaws."

"_You_ talked about _me?_"

"Well, no. _I_ didn't really dive into the talk about boys. But I _did_ think you were awfully cute."

"Of course I'm cute. You know, I'm the cutest of all the Weasleys."

"Technically, you and your twin are."

"Nah," George says, turning a corner with her as I follow a few steps behind them. "I'm _clearly_ the better looking one."

She giggles at his comment.

"Oh _please!_" I remark, grossed out.

"What?" they both ask, bewildered as they turn around to face me.

"Nothing!" I say, smiling innocently at them. "Didn't utter a word. Carry on."

"Well, hurry up, will you?" George says, beckoning me with his hand. "You might lose us!"

Hopefully I will, if you two keep up this embarassing form of flirting. Geez, can't they do any better?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Scoop! Brown! Float! I'm home!"

I've just walked in back to my flat from shopping with my mother. After an entire month, it still seems a bit empty. And I know Angelina had only dwelled here for two months, but without her, this place is just eerily quiet.

I guess you never know how much you miss somebody when there's a lack of their presence in your life.

I really miss her. I miss her so much. Life is just so empty without her. She's one of the best people I ever met.

Not to mention Alicia. I miss her even more. I haven't spoken to her in at least three months. It's been more than that, but it feels like an eternity. I have never gone this long without even getting some type of communication from her. Or angelina.

I miss Fred. I know he's afraid to talk to me, in case it would upset his wife. I miss him. He was such a fun factor.

And as much as I hate to admit, I miss Oliver. I miss his jerky ego. I miss the way he can make me laugh no matter what. I miss him so bad. In a way, I was closer to him than the other three. I suppose I miss him the most.

And it's been an entire month. Usually, he would suddenly show up at my work to apologize. He hasn't done that yet. I know I told him we weren't meant for each other. But I just want his friendship back.

Even if I have other people, like George, Nasuada, Jason, Maurie, people from work and family friends, it's just not the _same._ We were a group. And it's my fault that it's broken.

I just wish there could be something I can do.

It would take a miracle for all of us to be friends again.

I walk over to my couch, which is crammed between a small drawer, Float, and my two owls. Wrapping my arms around myself, these thoughts ripple through my brain over and over again.

I haven't cried in a verylong time.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"_Katie!_"

I glance up nervously from the box of wrapped chocolates in my hand. "Hi Alicia."

We both stay silent for a moment, looking at each other. Just staring.

She breaks the silence first. "What do you want?"

I fumble with the gift, taking my time to choose my words carefully. "I - I just wanted to come over. And talk."

She silently takes in my words, looking at me, as if wondering to trust me or not.

"_Why?_" she demands, her tone still angry and forceful.

"Because. I don't want to fight with you anymore. I'm tired of it. And because I miss you. I just want you back."

She gives me a considering look. Please let her want to talk to me. Please, please, _please._

Finally, she opens her door fully, and stands aside. A silent way of an inviting gesture.

I give a small feeble smile to her, and walk in.

"Thanks," I tell her quietly, as I pass her, into her home.

She emmits a small smile in return, closing the door behind her.

This is going to be an _extremely_ long day.

* * *

**a/n:** ok, so i hope you liked it. and seriously guys, _don't_ hate on alan. _i _like him very much.

i'm actually suppossed to update earlier than this, but the server was giving me problems, and i couldn't upload this chapter. so many apologies, but please, put most of the blame on the server. because i swear, i had it all done.

updates won't be as frequent as they were last summer, because once again i'm moving. so it might take a while for the internet to be back up and connected and all that jiterry stuff. _please_ be patient with me!

as for _oliver and katie_, don't worry guys. it's not a kbow story if these characters are going to be seperated forever. just give them time, like a _real _relationship. i don't want to rush them into some total bullshit like falling in love and making out with each other in a few short chapters. i don't want to make them in love with each other either. because we all know love takes time. duh. so please, just bear with me, kay? kay.

as for the personal life, many good things have come and gone. i've done something many people would be judgemental about. well, i'll tell you anyway. i've met a boy and kissed him. i don't know him very well, but we've become quite good friends. the thing is, we're kinda many ages apart. (more like _eight_ to be exact). i've told two of my closest friends. one thinks it's totally great because we both like each other so much (which is true, he kissed _me _first), but the other friend thinks it's completely horrible. judgemental about the age factor and everything. _what do you guys think?_ now you don't have to tell me. you can keep your opinions to yourselves. but really, i don't mind what you think. i just want to know how you guys feel about age and crap. because right now, _i _don't know what to think.

by the way, this summer's been going quickly. half the vacation has gone by without my knowing. and all i can remember doing is sleeping, eating, typing out stories and watching tv.

oh, and that show, _what i like about you_ with amanda bynes. i freakin love it. especially that guy val marries. vic. he's so completely gorgeous.

okay, enough from me. **please pleasePLEASE review!**

and **please please PLEASE give me a long review!**... since i gave you such a long chapter.

many thanks 8)


	17. Centre Stage

**a/n:** ok, so here's yet another LONG update. and yes, i did it now - earlier than i expected since moving houses is such a strain. i wanted to update before you guys start bashing me again. so enjoy? thengyuh.

**---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Public gatherings _suck._

They suck especially when it's your office that's the host.

Actually, this isn't a public gathering. It's more like a party.

Oh, how I hate office parties.

It's not that I don't like the people. I've made quite some friends. And I'm still part of the gobstones thing. And I absolutely adore Marlene, now that I've gotten to know her. So I'm not totally a foob at meeting new people.

It's just that I _hate_ office parties. Especially office parties for Christmas.

My reason is that I hate the gathering. Whenever there's a party, there's gathering. And gathering means people stuffed together in some cramped up space. You can literally smell their odours, because they're so near to you.

Now, if I worked on another floor, say Nasuada's floor, I probably wouldn't hate it so much. Although the office party means literally the entire Ministry - every single freakin floor - is throwing a party at the same time, parties up in my department are the worst.

Seriously. Parties thrown in the Department of Magical Games and Events isn't the greatest thing in the world. Especially when you have someone such as Ludovic Bagman as the head. I swear, if that guy's diet doesn't kill him, running and tutting around everywhere will. Geez.

The one thing that bothers me most about the parties on my floor is the invite. Everyone working must attend. I repeat, _must _attend. It's bad enough having to attend year after year to some pointless gathering of booze and finger foods. But the invite always says _and guest._

If you should know, I have no _and guest._ I've been in solitude since the begining of time.

Every year, I see everyone on the floor with someone. A significant other. Sometimes, people bring their friends. None of my friends who work outside the Ministry want to come. They always have better things to do for some odd rerason.

But as I said. I hate office parties for Christmas. They always bring me down.

Anyway, Alicia and I are fine. We've been fine for two weeks and counting. Yes, we apologized. And um... as usual, she did most of the talking, lecturing me. When really, the whole thing was more her fault. But I did apologize, and that does take some guts, since Alicia's quite the devil woman when she's angry. I didn't bother telling her most of it was her fault. I just sat and listened. I don't feel like our argument should be tagging along even longer, therefore, I decided to shut up.

Although Alicia and I are okay, we both still aren't with Angelina. I'm just not ready to face her yet. As for Alicia, she thinks that Angelina should be the one apologizing. I know how vain Alicia can be. Which is why I approached her instead. But the thing is, both Alicia and Angelina are quite proud people. So I do wonder how it's going to turn out for them two.

As for me, I'm quite content. I've taken a big step on being positive once more in apologizing to Alicia. For the moment, however, I think I'm just going to suck it up and try to enjoy this party.

Or 'party'.

I say this because it's not even a party. It's like a bunch of wizards in their late teens to early thirties, all grunging up on the floor dancing. Ludo Bagman had so wonderfully thought up the idea to clear all our cubicles - which is usually my hideout but no longer - for a dancefloor. And the thing is, the group singing on the radio is the most horrid group of all time: _The Charmers_. Like, _honestly! _What kind of group would call themselves _The Charmers_, for Merlin's sake!

Oh yes, that's right. An all wizard band that only cares about the amount of female fandom they have. Too bad they're my age. Well, twenty-five. I'm still twenty-two.

And there it is, people. Sadly, our floor is mostly filled with young people. I think Bagman thinks that us younglings come up with the freshest ideas. I must admit, older people - like Craig on our floor, he's forty-one - lack in the grand idea process. They just can't think up any good ideas.

Oh well... I guess it's not too bad working with people roughly my age. I just don't understand why I'm just some lowly secretary's secretary's junior secretary. It really doesn't make much sense to me.

"Watch it!" someone screams into my ear, making me spill my drink on the floor.

Oh ew! Oh ew ew ew _so ew!_ Geez!

"_You_ watch it!" I retort, walking away. "The dance floor is to your _right,_ idiots!"

Gosh! That was so nasty. How can you grind all the way to the punch table and not realize that all that's surrounding you are cakes and drinks? Urgh, they grinded on me! Ew ew ew! I feel so filthy! Ew!

I won't be surprised if I don't cry soon.

"Katie! There you are!"

And finally, the saviour has come. "Nasuada!"

Every year, Nasuada always comes to the Christmas gathering on my floor. Well, it seems as though all the young people in the entire building come to my floor year after year. According to Nasuada, nobody knows how to party more than the Department of Magical Games and Events.

My ass.

"Wow! You know," Nasuada screams over the music, her voice barely penetrating the loudness, "every year, your party gets better!"

"Are you kidding me?" I scream back, using my wand to undo the spill made earlier.

She grins widely at me, picking up a cookie and eating it. "Alone again, Katie?"

I scowl at her.

"It's alright! A lot of people are alone too!"

"Did you bring Jack?" I ask, changing the subject.

She shakes her head. "No!"

"So you're alone as well?"

She shakes her head again. "No!"

"Then who - "

But my question gets interrupted as George Weasley bounds - and literally, he _bounds_ - to Nasuada's side.

"_George!_" I exclaim, looking from him to Nasuada. "You don't work here!"

"Of _course _I don't!" he scoffs, giving me a weird look. "I wouldn't want to work in the dodgy place anyway!"

"Then why - ?"

"I'm getting something to drink!" he says, looking at Nasuada. "Want anything?"

"Just a punch will be fine," she yells, as Georgre disappears to the other side of the table.

"What!" she exclaims, for I am staring at her suspiciously.

"Nasuada, did you bring George here?"

"Yes!" she says, her smile glowing even brighter than before.

"What - what about _Jack!_" I scream, because the music suddenly got ten notches louder.

"Jack's got some meeting! He's trying to promote a product in Japan! Something about demolishing Grindylows!"

"And you just decided to bring _George!_"

"Well, yeah!" she shrugs. "He was quite nice to me! We went out for dinner two nights - "

"You wen't out to _dinner?_" I ask, appalled at my two friends. "What about_ Jack?_ Doens't he _mind?_"

"Jack's been gone for the month! He won't be returning until next week! And anyway, George seemed like a brilliant person, and so I invited him to come!"

My mouth widens as I gape at her. "What about Jack!"

"What _about _Jack?" she retorts, her smile fading.

"You're _with_ him, that's what! Nasuada, you went out for dinner with another guy - and now you're inviting him to a party?"

"Look, Katie," she says, pulling me over to the side which is relatively quieter. "I like George, okay? He's sweet to me. And Jack... he's lately never there anymore. And I don't know why. So for the holidays, I'm going to spend it with someone who cares. And I don't want to think about Jack right now. It only makes me cry."

She turns away from me, suddenly going quiet. I had no idea.

"I'm sorry, Nasuada," I tell her. "I didn't know you and Jack were having problems."

She turns back to me. "Yeah, well... I don't want to care about them right now, kay? So... so just..."

"I will," I say, leading her back to the snacks table. We can both see George on the other side.

"Do you like him?" I ask Nasuada, lowering my voice.

"Of course I do. He's perfectly nice - "

"I meant, do you _like_ him?"

"Of _course_ I do. He's perfectly nice," she tells me, smiling again. "And perfectly funny too."

I smile at her as we turn back to George. Who is now pouring liquid from a vial into the punch.

My eyes widen, as I hurry over to where George is pouring. "_George!_" I shriek, holding onto his arm. "What the fuck are you doing!"

And there it is. That evil Weasley grin on his face. "Nothing," he answers innocently, flashing his eyelashes at me.

"Oh whatever, Weasley. I know you too well. What is this stuff!"

"_Nothing!_"

"_Tell me!_" I demand, my eyes glinting. "You can't go ruining people's fun for your own benefit!"

"Ah, but it's not only _my _benefit," he says impishly. "I know how much you hate these people. Well, most of them anyway."

"What does my hate for these people have anything to do with this?"

"_Payback!_" he exclaims, looking at me as if I were the dumbest person in the world. "Wow, you're slow."

Before I can stop him, he empties the rest of the vial, putting it carefully back in his pocket.

"Great! Now what am I suppossed to drink?" I say, highly annoyed with him.

"There's always coffee or tea," he says, jerking a thumb behind him. "Or this stuff in bottles."

He begins to walk away before I stop him. "George, what did you put in the punch?"

"Patience is key, my love," he replies, evil grin set in face, as he turns to walk back to Nasuada, holding the last two cups of safe punch.

I roll my eyes, walking in the opposite direction to leave them alone. The last thing I want to encounter is my best friend making out with my other best friend.

Glancing over at the dancefloor, I can see that the people are still as hyped as they were two hours ago. I mean, you'd think they'd stop and take a breather. I haven't seen anyone get off for air.

And to think that witches and wizards of the Ministry are a respectable lot! Look at them, feeling each other up and just... gyrating on the dancefloor. Can't they have _any_ shame?

"Well, hello Katie," says a voice from behind me.

I turn around to see Jason and Maurie, arm in arm, as happy as ever.

"Jason! Maurie!" I exclaim. "Well... look at you two! Just _look_ at you!"

Isn't it sad how you say the dumbest things when you have nothing to say?

"Um... look at you too?" Jason says awkwardly, looking at me as though I'm ill.

"So! How are things?" I ask, trying to make conversation. Now, it's not like I try to avoid these two. I mean, over a few months, these two have become... quite tolerable.

"Good," Maurie answers smiling at me. "Jason and I have met each other's parents."

Wow. Not even a year into the relationship and they already had the whole meet the parentals thing.

"So I take it you two are doing fine?"

"We're doing spectacular!" Jason says, capturing Maurie's hand in his. "She really_ is_ the best person in my life. Thank you, Katie. Thanks for everything."

"Oh, you're welcome," I mumble, forcing a smile.

"Yes, Katie, thank you," Maurie replies earnestly, giving me the warmest of smiles. "I can't think of what I'd be without him."

They grin at each other and nod to me, walking away, hand in stupid hand. Happy couples make me sick. But that's probably only because I'm not part of any sort of happy couple. Makes me so sad, it does.

"Excuse me!" someone says, as I get shoved to the side. Whipping my head around. I can see Hester, who is Ludo's secretary, followewd by my own 'boss', Boister, running after Bagman himself to the other side of the room.

"Pardon _me_," I grumble, sticking out my foot, trying to trip one of them. Unfortunately for me, they all miss it, and I'm left to pick myself up from the floor. And you'd think I'd get some help from people here, but no. They're all too busy shaking their body parts to the gayest boy band in the world to help out.

Fucking buggers.

"Here, let me help you." I feel a hand pulling me up by the arm. Whoever it is, they're quite strong to be able to pull me to my feet using one arm's strength.

My eyes grow wide. "Alan!" I exclaim, jumping away from him. "_Alan!_"

He raises a brow at me. "You know, you said my name_ twice_."

"_Alan!_" I cry once more, not knowing why.

Gawd I'm being so gay.

"Um... are you okay?" he asks uncertainly. "I think your fall corrupted your brain."

"_Alan!_"

"You can stop repeating my name now, you know."

I shake my head thoroughly. "Sorry."

"It's alright," he says, grinning. "It does brighten my day, to see you act dumb."

"I'm _not_ dumb!" I tell him, crossing my arms.

"I know you're not. But when you kept repeating my name..."

"Well, it's a shock to see you here. Why are you here anyway?"

He shrugs. "I actually don't know. Bagman just invited the whole team."

_The whole team?_

"Like, the _Wasps?_" I ask.

"Yep. The entire team, including people on bench, the managers, coaches and president. I don't know why though."

"S-so... even _Oliver's_ here?"

At the mention of Oliver, Alan's face falls. His brow wrinkles. "Yeah, he's somewhere."

"Are you okay?" I question, peering at him closely. "You look a bit troubled."

He shrugs again. "It's nothing, really."

"Tell me."

"Nah... don't want to be such a bother."

"_Tell me!_" I insist, shaking his arms with my hand.

He bites his tongue, scanning the area around us. "It's Oliver."

Oh _great..._

"What _about_ Oliver?" I ask, eyeing him.

"Well... I don't know why, but for the past month, he's been... really _negative_ towards me."

"Negative as in how?"

"Well, we used to talk. We were actually best mates until something happened. He's refused to talk to me, acts really shirty around me, and just always looks mad around me."

I look away uncomfortably. "_Ahh..._"

"Do you know something about this?" he asks me, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

But before I can answer, somebody grabs him from behind, muttering something about being up at the front with Bagman before draggin him away. He gives me an apologetic look, shrugs the guy off him and follows him.

Shaking my head, I turn to walk away myself, back to George and Nasuada. You know, isn't it weird how all my friends seemed to have hooked up with each other except me? I mean, Alicia's been with George and Fred, Angelina and Fred are married, George is going out with Nasuada, and I'm still alone. Pathetic. _Really pathetic._

And why am I alone? I mean, I'm not completely bad looking. Not to be conceited, but I think I'm pretty decent. Sure, I'm no celebrity who's got the flawless look or anything, but -

"_Ouch!_" I cry, and something hits me on the head.

Is it just me, or is today just _not_ very happening for me?

Rubbing my head, I glare up to see who's hit me. But unfortunately once more, the person seems to have had no clue they'd hit me and disappeared into the crowd. Grumbling under my breath and massaging my scalp, I turn away, until my eyes snap at a familiar figure a few feet away from me.

Okay, so today is probably one of the _worst_ days of my life.

And it really _isn't _a happening day for me. No, it isn't.

He sure has a good expression for anger, that Oliver Wood.

How interesting. You know how people are in a crowd, and then they see a familiar figure inside the crowd, and that person is all they notice, and suddenly, it's like time stops while they just stare at each other?

Too bad we aren't in love. It would have been a better scenario if we were in love. Or at least, on speaking terms. Oh the conspiracy.

I quickly glance down at my feet, because his stare unnerves me. Golly gee it's like he's psychotic, what with that unblinking angry stare.

Why isn't he looking away? Go away, Oliver. Go _away!_ Stop staring.

Please?

Okay, so maybe trying to shoot messages from one brain to another is impossible. But hey - the effort counts.

Finally, I turn my head up to face him defiantly, only to find that... he's gone. Back into the crowd... How odd.

I wade through the crowd, trying to catch up to George and Nasuada. And I find them in a corner. Surprisingly, they aren't making out. I mean, isn't that what people do when they're alone in a corner and totally attracted to each other? That what _I _would do.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!" I say breathlessly as I reach the both of them. "Oh my god, oh my god, _oh my god!_"

"What?" Nasuada asks instantly, her attention turning completely to me from George.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!"

"What?"

"I saw him! I saw him..."

"Who?"

"Some guy picking his nose?" George offers, curiosity piqued. Nasuada gives him a look which he responds to with a shrug.

"Who did you see, Katie?"

"Oliver."

"Well, _that's _interesting," George says, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "It shouldn't come to much of a surprise, since he _is_ friends with that fat-ass anyway."

"You mean _Bagman?_" Nasuada questions, raising an eyebrow to him.

"Yeah."

"I also saw Alan," I tell them, rubbing my arm uncomfortably.

"Now _that's_ something to wonder about." Nasuada and I turn our heads to George. "You know, since Bellesque isn't one for publicity. What's he doing here at one of the most publicized departments of the Ministry?"

"The whole team's here."

"_What!_" they both exclaim, staring at me as if I were crazy.

I raise my eyebrow. "What?"

"_What!_"

"What?"

"The _whole_ team?"

"I just said that."

"But _why!_"

"Because Bagman invited them over? Geez. What are you guys so afraid of? They're just people like us."

"Look Katie, unlike_ you_, the rest of us aren't exposed to celebrities," Nasuada says, rolling her eyes at me.

"They're _not _celebrities, they're _athletes!_"

"She's right," George replies, nodding his head. "There _is_ a difference. And _I_ have been exposed to Oliver since I was twelve..."

"But they're so famous, they could _be _celebrities," Nasuada insists, grabbing a hold onto George's arm. "Oh Merlin, I'm going to meet _famous _people!"

"Oh don't tell me you're a _groupie_," George says, looking mildly disgusted.

"Of _course_ I'm not!" Nasuada hisses, flinging his arm awway from her as if it were contaminated. "I've just never met anybody famous. That's all."

"Yes you have!" She looks over to me with a questioning face. "You met Oliver. Remember?"

She pauses for a second, lips pursed in memory. She suddenly snaps out of her trance and smiles. "Yeah, I remember now."

"And how you were all blustery and babbling and nervous and then you kept blushing - "

"Do you fancy him?" George cuts me off, staring sidelong at his date.

"Well, _who wouldn't?_" she answers, her voice light and airy as if not even listening. George gives her an incredelous look which does seem to zap her. "What? Well, I was just merely saying - "

"No, it's alright, I understand."

"No! Well, of course I think he's _very_ good looking and all - "

"Look, I get it."

"I wouldn't go out with him anyway. He's not my kind of guy!"

George turns to her. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure!"

I don't even know why they're having this conversation. It's not like they themselves are going out or anythig. And who knew - my best friend! George Weasley needs reassurance. And here I always thought George was sure of himself. Well, that proves I don't know everything about him as I would think I would.

"Okay guys, I don't mean to be selfish, " I say, bringing them back to reality. "But back to _me!_ We haven't even discussed about _me_ yet!"

"Yes we have," George replies, rolling his eyes at me. "You saw Oliver and Alan. What else is there to be said?"

I hate him. There are so many days when I absolutely hate him.

"_Well?_" he asks impatiently, tapping his foot even though the party is so loud you can't hear it.

"He _hates_ me!" I cry in anguish, covering my face with my hands. "He hates me, Merlin, I know it - "

"Which one, Alan or Oliver?"

"_Both!_"

"And why would they hate you?"

"Because they hate _each other!_" I say, now rubbing my face.

"Okay, so let me get this straight," Nasuada says briskly. "Oliver and Alan both hate you, because Oliver and Alan both hate each other?"

"Yes!"

Pause. "_What?_" they both exclaim together, as if I were the dumbass.

"Come again?" George demands, his face in bewilderment.

Stupid gits. "Okay, so you know how I told Oliver that on our 'date', I left and went to Alan's?" They both nod uncertainly. "Okay, so before all of this, Oliver and Alan were best friends, and Oliver confided in Alan that he liked me and everything. And then Oliver found out I went to Alan's place to stay overnight and that Alan invited me, and now they're at a rift in their friendship because of me!"

"Okay, so they hate each other. But why would they hate you?"

"_Becuase I'm the reason for the rift!_" My hands are in the air, trying to make a point as well. Gosh, these guys are slow today!

"Pause. "So?"

"What do you mean, 'so'?" I gasp. "I don't _want_ to be their reason!"

"It's a bit late for that, Katie," Nasuada tell me, patting my arm synpathetically. "Besides, don't you find it flattering?"

"_No!_"

"Oh, well then... I don't know."

I give a sigh of frustration. "This is so stupid - why are boys so _stupid!_" I glare at George, who jumps back in surprise.

"What!" He cries, shifting from my gaze. "How should _I _know? We're a stupid race anyway."

"Ugh, _nevermind!_" I snap, turning around. Some help _they've_ been.

Shaking my head, I walk around the floor. This is a stupid party. Christmas is _so_ overrated. Half these people aren't even working in my department. And they're just slutting around the place as if they own it. Well, they _don't!_

I hate people. People are so stupid.

And boys. Boys are so incredibly stupid! Why do they _always_ make everything so complicated? And why are they so thick! Why can't they just be agreeable for once in their stupid lives? Boys are stupid.

Exactly.

I need a drink. I need a really good drink. I walk over to the refreshments stand, picking up a cup with me. Making sure I stay away from the liquid that George has corrupted, I pour myself something from a bottle in which he swears he hadn't touched.

I hate boys sometimes. I really do. They always make every little situation turn so complex! I mean, why do they -

"_Watch it!_" I shriek, as my drink, which was half way up to my lips, is now all over my shirt. Because some smartass decides to push me.

Grumbling, I wipe furiously at the wet spots, waiting for an apology by the other party. But it doesn't come. "Don't you think it's the decent to do if you would just apo-"

And once more, I am stopped mid-sentence, because standing before me is Oliver Wood.

Is it just me, or does this guy show up at _everything_? Great. This is just great.

"So? Aren't you going to say you're sorry?" I demand, throwing the cup at the floor.

He raises his eyebrows at me, and then to the cup, before replying cooly, "You shouldn't be littering you know. Don't you think you should say you're sorry to the earth?"

We stand there, glaring at each other. I hate him. I really _really_ hate him.

"You know, Katie," he suddenly says, breaking our contact. "Would it really kill you to smile?"

"Would you smile if someone decides to purposely shove you, making you spill your drink on your ridiculously expensive shirt?" I snap back, still frantically wiping at my shirt.

"Who told you to wear - let alone _purchase_ - a ridiculously expensive shirt?"

"You did it on purpose!"

"No, I didn't."

"What, so you just _happened _to shove me on the shoulder while I was drinking?"

"Yes," he replies simply, placing his hands in his pocket.

Muttering to myself, I take out my wand and perform a drying spell and attempt to wipe the stain off my shirt. "Is it a mission of yours, Oliver? To piss me off?"

Rolling his eyes oh so obviously, he turns on his heels and stalks awway from me.

My my, what an apology.

Ugh. I can't take this anymore. I need a freakin break. I need to get out of here.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

And this is _so _not where I would have thought I'd been.

The stupid thing about working at the Ministry is that no one lets you out of the building during a party.

So here I am, stuck in the Department of Magical Co-operation with three others, who have attempted to escape; Ian Pinto, Carys Helther, and Stellar Crosswind.

And even though these guys may not be the best company, we all share something in common: we hate holiday parties at the office. Actually, they seem to hate the holiday altogether. Or, at least, the way the holiday is protrayed.

"What about you, Stellar?"

We're all sitting together in a very scattered circle. Since we were so bored, the only idea we came up with was to tell each other about ourselves. Enlightening.

"I work at the Ministry, I'm an only child, I have one cat, and my girlfriend just dumped me," Stellar replies, playing with a thread on his robes.

Wow, this is boring.

"How about _you_, Katie?" Carys asks, her face full of hope that maybe I would lead a better life than Stellar.

"I work at the Department of Magical Games and Events, I have an older brother, and I have two owls and a fish."

I watch as Carys' face falls back into gloom, the hope of a better conversation dying. Well, I can't help it if I don't want to share intimate details with people I've only just met!

"Yes, that's all very interesting," Ian mutters, hiding a yawn behind his hand.

We all stop talking, as we stare at the anything but each other. I am bored. Sheerly bored. As much as I hate to admit it, even the party upstairs might've been better than this.

"Exploding Snap?" Stellar suggests, waving a deck of cards in his hands. One glare from Carys and his hand droops down.

And here, I would've welcomed a game of Exploding Snap. On the other hand, I have no idea how to play, and after watching Fred and George play it, it doesn't seem to pique my interest much.

I take a chance to look around the room. It's quite a small room here. Or a huge office. I see the name 'Monty Neko' on a bar of gold, at the front of a very wide desk. Taking my eyes off it, I can see Stellar staring at the direction a bit west from me. Carys has fallen asleep in no time, back to the wall, her head on a book. Ian is staring at Carys, although not seeing her.

Like I said, this is very boring.

"How long has it been?" I ask thickly through a yawn of my own.

"A bit over an hour," Ian replies, not even looking at me.

I don't even know _why_ I came here.

"Well!" I say abruptly, standing up and stretching. "I think I should be heading back."

Stellar raises an eyebrow at me. "What happened to you hating holiday parties?"

"It's quite boring here. I would like some kind of entertainment, at least."

"Can't argue with _that,_" Ian says turning away from me.

"Well then, it was very nice to meet you!" I say cheerfully, making my way to the lift. Waving at them, Ian and Stellar give a not so hearty wave back, while Carys gives a comfortable snort.

Incredible. I spent over an hour in there and didn't even fall alseep!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_What the hell?_

I can say coming back onto the Games and Events floor has given me a surprise. Though the music is still blasting my ears off, everyone seems to be together, making one huge crowd.

Okay, I know that people dance in big groups, and that parties usually attract crowds. But this is different. Because no one is bopping their heads, nor shaking their thangs.

And that's _very_ peculiar, because my floor seems to have the such people to bop their heads and shake their thangs.

And oddly enough, everyone's heads are turned to the centre of the room. I can see people with faces of shock, horror, interest, fascination. And I can see people who have no emotion at all.

But I, on the other hand, cannot see what they are seeing. Because miraculously, people seem to have grown ten inches since my departure. Even jumping up and down won't allow me to view whatever they are viewing.

So. I guess there's only one thing to do. One extremely nasty, gross, heinous task to do.

Taking a deep breath of bravery, I march myself up to the nearest opening, pushing my way through them to get to George and Nasuada.

"Excuse me!" I call, as I unceremoniously shove a witch aside.

"Aack!"

"Hey!"

"What the -"

"Augh!"

"Eek!"

Such vocabulary from my fellow magicians. Staring around, I finally spot George and Nasuada, a bit left and further down from me. I force myself back into the crowd.

"Move!"

"Watch it!"

"Listen, lady - "

"How rude!"

"_Sorry!_" I call back over my shoulder, as I make to stand next to George. I tap him on the shoulder.

But as George turns to face me, he looks too shocked to even utter a word. Instead, it is Nasuada who speaks to me. "Katie, _where the heck have you been!_"

"Oh, I just got a bit bored and wondered off. What's going on?"

Instead of giving me an answer, both their heads whip back to the direction where everyone else's head is. Now that I've caught up with George and Nasuada, I realize that we're second from the front line to the centre of the room, where everyone's staring. Taking my eyes off the crowd, I turn my head to see whatever it is that everyone's marvelling at -

"_What the fuck!_" I hear myself say, as I watch in horror at the scene in front of me.

For there off to the side, stands Ludovic Bagman, sweating buckets and looking terrified. The coach of the Wimbourne Wasps is frantically pulling on his own hands and nervously shaking. A Seeker, Beater, and three Chasers stare mesmerized at the scene in front of them. There is a pair - a particular Keeper and a Beater - locked in battle of fists and feet.

And even though the music is blaring, I can still make out what they're saying - barely. For not only is the music muffling them, but they themselves are muffling each other.

"How could you _do_ this to me - "

"I did nothing!"

"Fucking jerk!"

"Bloody traitor!"

" - kick you where it _counts_ - "

Half the crowd is as memsmerized as the Wasps, but the others look highly entertained.

I can feel George's hands grip me by the shoulders. I look up at him, but he too, seems lost for words.

"Why isn't anyone stopping them?" I ask, managing to say something.

"Put up a shield charm, they did," answers George. "Powerful bit of magic it is..."

A gasp issuing from the crowd draws us back to the fighting duo.

" - fucking hate you!"

"Traitor!"

"Go shit your pants for all I care - "

"Rat-assed _liar!_"

"Fucking sleaze!"

Why are they fighting? And why are they fighting in _public?_ And we're freakin witches and wizards! Surely, someone's strong enough to break through their charm!

"Stop it!" I cry, but no one seems to hear me. I make to move up front, but George's hands grip my shoulder more tightly. "George! Let _go!_"

He doesn't respond, but instead, hardens his grip. This is insane.

Fighting! At a _Christmas _party! Why!

I can feel George's grip falter, as Oliver delivers a particularly effective punch to the side of Alan's head.

"George, let go!" I demand, trying to wrestle his hands loose. "_Let me go!_"

"No," he replies firmly, still gripping.

"Why not!"

"Because I know what you're going to do, and I don't want you to do it. Because I know you yourself will get hurt too."

Okay, _now_ is not the time to act like a brother. "George, please! I can't let them keep injuring themselves! Let go!"

"No!"

This is infuriating! I can't just stand here helplessly, when two men - who are surprisingly, I've just realized, very important to me - are freakin bruising each other!

That does it.

"I don't _care_, George!" I cry, mustering up all my strength to get free.

"_Katie_ - " I hear him exclaim, but he's too late, because I'm already out of his grasp, and at the front.

And I must say, things at the front are more gruesome, because now there's no one to hide behind when someone gives a nasty blow.

I continue to watch them, as they struggle and roll across the room, the crowd following their every move.

"Stop!" I scream, and this time, a few people hear me. One of them pats me sympathetically on the arm.

Shrugging them off, I holler once more. "Quit it!"

But nobody cares. The duelling pair still haven't stopped, and things seem to have gotten even nastier.

Well, desperate times call for desperate measures, I suppose. Whipping out my wand and pointing it to my throat, I say, "_Sonorous!_"

Here goes nothing.

"_Stop it!_" I hear mnyself echoing fiercely from every corner of the room. People have their hands pressed to their ears. Others are cringing. But I ignore them to face the pair in front of me. They've finally broken apart, and are gaping at me.

"_Finally_," I mutter, but everyone can still hear it. Taking advantage of this, I say, "_And will someone turn off the fricken music!_"

There's a loud zipping noise as the music stops. I utter the counter charm to make my voice back to normal.

Bringing myself to my full height and walking a little forwards to them. The crowd behind me seems to have fallen upon a silencing spell, because I can hear my feet patter on the floor.

I shake my head at Oliver and Alan. "You know, you guys are two of the most famous athletes in our generation. And you've just _ruined_ your reputation."

I can hear small intake of breath from someone behind me. Alan seems to have blushed a bit, but Oliver looks emotionless.

"I hope you know," I continue, walking up even closer to them, "that _all _of the United Kingdom treat you two as figures worth respecting. _Little kids_ look up to you."

I pause a bit, to catch my breath. From the corner of my eye, I can see George and Nasuada emerging to stand in the front, watching me intently. Now's not the time to get nervous.

"I hope you know all of England is watching you. Watching your _every_ move. It's pretty bad publicity that two of the best players in the quidditch field are getting violent with each other. And at the _Ministry!_ During a _Christmas_ party!"

At this, someone in the crowd sniggers, but abruptly stops.

Ignoring them, I go on. "Isn't it bad enough enough that you're embarassing yourselves? Do you have to bring bad publicity to our department, our head, your coach_ and_ your team? And isn't is bad enough, that two grown wizards like you, are rolling around the floor, screaming nonsense at each other? And hitting each other? And here I thought _I_ was immature for my age."

Alan seems to have gone completely red now. But still, Oliver remains the same, staring at me.

"And don't you find it sad, that you can't even act a _bit_ civilized, and have a proper conversation to settle your dispute? Don't you find it so pathetic that you have to result in violence? Because _I_ find it sad. And I also find it sad how you're fighting with a dozen reporters in the room, with every eye-witness possible."

The crowd is muttering. I can feel my legs shaking. Nasuada and George have made their way up beside me.

I shake my head one final time at them before turning around, walking inbetween Nasuada and George. Nasuada loops her arm around mine, while George puts and arm around my shoulder and squeezes.

"Was that really neccesary?" he asks quietly.

"It was the only way to make them stop. And feel bad."

"They're men," he scoffs. "No matter what, they'd _still_ want their dignity."

"Well, it was the only way to get them to stop, Geroge," I snarl, rubbing the bridge of my nose. I turn to Nasuada. "Think they'll hate me even more?"

She shifts uncomfortably on her feet. "Well, you _did_ embarass them - "

"They embarassed _themselves!_"

"Yes, but you made them look worse."

"So you think they hate me?"

But as she was prepared to answer, a scream breaks our conversation. All our heads whip back to the centre of the room.

"_Stupefy!_" Oliver yells, pointing his wand right at Alan. But Alan puts up a shielf charm, making the spell backfire at Oliver.

"_Scourgify!_" Alan retaliates, aiming his wand at Oliver's face. Immediately, Oliver's mouth foams.

"_Ethpellarbus!_" I hear Oliver say, but the spell doesn't meet its standards because of his foaming mouth.

Before George can grip me in a powerlock again, I duck under his arm, unloop away from Nasuada, and dash back around.

"What the_ fuck!_" I cry, running up to them. I momentarily slip from the foam which has leaked a bit from Oliver, but manage to right myself. "_What are you doing!_"

"Getting my dignity back," Oliver mutters.

_Boys and their fucking dignity._

But before he can fire a spell, I push him backwards. He gives me an incredelous look.

"Oliver - don't!" I say weakly, blocking Alan from his view.

"What, are you protecting him now?" Oliver shoots back, glaring at me. "Do you like him or something?"

Ahhh... Now that's something interesting.

"_Well!_" he demands, picking himself off the floor. Instead of waiting for my answer, he shoves me aside. Stumbling again, I right myself once more as he calls from his shoulder, "_That_ _wasn't_ an accident!"

He turns back to face Alan, with me behind him.

"So Bellesque, had enough?" he mocks, gripping onto his wand tightly.

"You've got more bruises than I do," Alan replies acidly, mouth thin.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Oliver cries, wand whipping extremely fast. And this time, his aim is true. Everyone follows Alan as he shoots back across the room, his back hitting the wall, emmitting a loud crunching sound.

"_Oliver!_" I shriek, running at him and grabbing his wand arm. But as always, Oliver's strength is quite a feat, and he shrugs me off.

I watch as Oliver walks up to Alan, until they are a few feet away. The side of Alan's head seems to be bleeding, and his panting is not the least a relieving sound.

"Oliver - " he starts, but Oliver cuts him off.

"You were my _friend!_" Oliver screams, as the crowd flinches from his tone. Alan, on the other hand, doesn't seem a bit fazed at all. "My _best mate!_"

"I _am_ - "

"You're a _traitor!_"

"Oliver - "

"No! How could you do this? I confide in you, and you just up and kick my ass!"

"I did nothing but show courtesy," Alan grunts, as he is trying to raise himself from the wall. Tripping over his feet a bit, he manages to stand, putting his weight against the wall.

"Courtesy my ass!"

"It was more courtesty than what _you_ showed her!"

And just like that, the crowd starts murmuring. "He said _her!_" "Who's this _her?_" "Fighting over a _girl?_" "She better be worth it!" "Hey, maybe it's _her!_" As I turn around, a few people who had been pointing at me hastily drop their hands. But not their eyes. No, everyone's staring at me. George and Nasuada, even Jason and Maurie.

Trying hard not to quaver, I turn my attention back to Oliver and Alan.

"- yeah, thanks a lot for the support, _mate!_"

"I don't understand why you're being so - "

"So _what?_" Oliver says, eyes slitting dangerously.

"Acting the way you are!"

"I have a _right_ to be acting the way I am!"

"Oh, and please, enlighten me as to why!" Alan says; his strength falters, as he slips down. His fellow team mates rush to his side to pull him up, but as he gets to his feet, he yanks out of their grip. "Tell me, Oliver. Tell me why you're so _fucking impossible!_"

The face upon Oliver sums up to one word: rage.

"_Impossible?_" he screams, eyes widening like a maniac. Not very flattering. "How the fuck do you expect a person to act when you go and take what's theirs!"

Well, it's not like I'm some possession or anything. But it is nice to know he likes me so much. Not to be arrogant or anything.

Okay, I'll just stop.

" - on a date with me! And you just _had_ to whisk her away as if you were some knight in shining armour!"

"I might as well be, since you completely blew her off for a bit of publicity!"

"You had no right - "

"I can do whatever I want."

"So you _admit_ it!" Oliver cries triumphantly, although he doesn't seem too triumphant. "You admit you stole her from me!"

"I didn't _steal_ anyone! What the hell are you even talking about!"

"What are _you_ talking about!"

"No, Oliver. What are_ you_ talking about!"

"Wow, how thick _are_ you, Alan? You just admitted to stealing her from me!"

"No I didn't!" portests Alan, Breathing heavily now. "I admitted nothing. Nor did I do any stealing! _Shit!_"

"Yes you did!"

"_When?_"

For a moment, Oliver seems to be speechless. He's just standing there, his mouth moving from side to side, just glaring at Alan.

"Well! Well then!" he stammers, finally regaining his stance. "What did you have to take her out for dinner then!"

"Because she deserves respect and common sense, idiot!"

"Oh, so now she deserves respect, does she!"

"_Yes,_ she does!"

"So you'd show _her_ respect but not _me?_ What about _me,_ Alan! You were my best mate, and you couldn't even show me _any_ - "

"If I didn't show you any respect, there would be far more horrible things I would do to you! And how didn't I show you respect!"

"You totally outed me!"

"How!"

"She was on a date with _me_ - _not you!_ And you just had to come and take her away, making _me_ look like the bad guy! Why!"

"She was alone and miserable, and I was hungry! It's common courtesy to invite someone for dinner! And she's my _friend!_"

"Oh, so just _happened_ to invite her back to dinner, which just so _happened _to be at your house!"

"Yes!"

"And you just _happened_ to let her stay _over night_ at your place!"

There is quite an audible gasp from the crowd, as more murmurs errupt. I take a glance around; people are staring tranfixed once more at the two in front of me.

"It was late, and she was tired, and I'm guessing she didn't want to see _you_ at the moment, since you practically _dumped_ her!" Alan fights back, wiping the sweat on his brow.

"Dumped her? I didn't - "

"What do you call abandoning someone on their first date at some alien restaurant for a bunch of mere _groupies?_"

"Good publicity for the team and - "

"Oh my ass good publicity for the team! _Nobody cares!_"

"You know what, Alan? You're just jealous! You've always been jealous of me!"

"Oh _please!_ Tell me why!"

"You were always jealous that I've been more popular!" Oliver shouts, although Alan seems to have a bitter smile on his face, shaking his head slowly. "You were always jealous because the media gave me more attention than you! I'm a better player, and let's face it - I'm better looking."

Alan pinches the bridge of his noise, giving out a long stressed sigh. "You know, Oliver - you really _are_ such a fucking _arrogant_ - "

"_No, I'm not!_"

"Yes! Yes, you are! I don't _care_ about publicity! I don't _care_ about how many women I attract! I don't _care_ how good I look! I care about the _game,_ Oliver! And that's something _you_ haven't cared about for a very,_ very_ long time!"

All heads whip over to Oliver as he once more, stands there, speechless. Well, I can't really argue wth Alan on that one. No offense to Oliver or anything, but he really is a bit too pompous for his own good.

"You don't have to admit that you're a fucking cock, Oliver. And I don't care. I was - _still am_ - your friend, even if you've put yourself up on a pedestal. Because I care more about my friends than a newspaper article and autographs. You can put any blame you want on me for stealing whatever. I don't care. Just know that I've never lied to you and I don't intend to, no matter what the hell you do to me. So go ahead - jinx me. All I can say it - I too have a wand."

"You just said you wouldn't do anything - "

"No, I said I'd still be your friend. But I can still protect myself from your stupid spells."

All around, heads flip from Oliver to Alan like a swing. Both men are glaring daggers at each other. Oh Merlin, I really do hope they don't result in wands again...

And out of nowhere, it looks as though Oliver's been hit by the jelly legs jinx. I give Alan an exasperated look; he glances in my direction, but quickly looks away.

"Silent spells won't work, Oliver," Alan calls out, although it seems as though he's very strained. "Because I can do them too - "

But taking advantage of his talking, Oliver shoots another spell which gives Alan warts on every inch of his body.

"Oh, _come on_ you guys!" I wail, running over to Oliver. "Can't you just stop and call it a day!"

Oliver rolls his eyes at me. "Stay out of it, Katie."

"_No!_" I cry, stamping me feet on the ground. "No! Do you know how stupid you two are acting? Literally - you guys are acting like... you're acting worse than Fred and George!"

In the background, I can dinstinctly make out George's cry of protest. I look over at Alan who seems completely clueless as to what I'm talking about, but Oliver's expression turns to stone.

"_Stay out ot it!_" he warns, shaking my grip on his arm away.

"No, I won't!"

"_Katie_ - "

"No, Oliver! Just - stop!"

"_Let - go - of - me - !_"

"I will let go," I hiss, as I put all my strength on his arm, "when you stop your pointless wizards' duel!"

But as I make to tighten my grip, Oliver's super human strength manages to shrug me off, as he points his wand readily at Alan. I can see Alan raising his wand as well - although he seems extremely pale. I wonder if he's broken anything. That crash before was quite harsh.

"Don't do this, Oliver," Alan says, his voice thick, and sweat matted hair swinging into his eyes.

"I'll do what I want, thank you very much."

"Oliver - "

"I don't care!"

"Get a _grip_ on yourself, Oli - "

"_Shut up!_"

Both panting heavily, both wands shaking from their hands, they both open their mouths ready for a jinx -

"_STUPE -_ "

"_FERNUNCU -_ "

"_NO!_" I hear myself roar, as I step inbetween the both of them, blocking their spells.

As if in slow motion, I can see a jet of red and yellow, heading my way. Oliver and Alan's faces contort in in horror. Nasuada and George pushing people out of their way to get to me, trying to get me out of the way.

But the last thing I can make out is an orange explosion, and someone wailing my name in anguish.

**---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

ok so for some reason, the line thing on ff won't work. so i hope you don't get confused. (this is an author's note)

anyway, so here it is guys. the thing you've all been waiting for: _katie finally grows up and matures_. a bit.

so yay? yay. i wanted katie to grow up here because it shows her sense of morals, and how much she cares for her friends. she cares enough to stupidly put herself in harm. but i guess, when you're in a situation where time is precious, your brain stops working and you do pretty stupid things, right? right.

i also wanted this chapter to point out how oliver himself isn't the perfect pretty boy athlete everyone thinks he is. he does have his faults. and although in the other chapters, where katie constantly reminds him how much of a dick he is, he never really paid her any attention, and just merely flirted with her, thinking he was witty and charming. and now, after hearing the words from his best friend, he finally realises that maybe - _just maybe_ - he _is_ a bit too arrogant for his own good.

anyway, that's all.

so anyone see _miami vice?_ i did, like... literally a month ago, maybe. i don't get it. that chinese chick.. what the heck was she crying about at the end anyway? makes not much sense to me really. and half the time, i didn't know what the frig she was saying. not that i'm racist or anything. since i'm chinese myself. but what was she saying! and i really don't get the ending. so if any of you have seen the movie, care to share? alright.

anyway, as usual, i'll end with the message of _**LONG REVIEWS. I WANT LONG REVIEWS. **_

thanks!


	18. Boys and Girls Are Love

**a/n:** so... about time this thing was updated, yes? yes. apologies later on.

* * *

" - think she's okay after all -" 

"... just a couple of jinxes and hexes... "

"- can't be so horrible - "

"... have to wait and see..."

"_What the hell!_"

Head rush! Oh sick bastard, I _hate_ head rushes! Eugh head rush, head rush, head rush! _Shit!_

I _knew_ I should've gotten up slowly.

Fuck you, head rush.

And why's my vision so dull?

"Rise and shine to you too, dear."

Taking care to mind my head this time, I turn to my left, to see a blurry plump woman folding something.

"_Hengh?_" I hear myself grunt, clutching my blankets closer. Odd... these aren't my blankets. _My_ blankets are more plush than this.

"You're finally awake," the woman replies, smiling warmly at me. My vision finally clears up, as I get a good look at the woman. White robes, white-blonde hair in tight bun, warm smile. Extremely stuck out eyes, but whatever.

"How long was I asleep for?"

"Around two days."

"Two days!"

"Yes, two days. We were a bit worried, since you slept for so long. We figured you'd wake up yesterday, but when you didn't - "

"Where am I?"

At this question, the woman gives me a severe look of concern, rushing over to my bedside and slapping her palm to my forehead. I hear her muttering something about a fever.

"You're at the hospital," she answers, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Hospital?" I echo, tilting my head to the side.

"St. Mungo's, dear. Now you sit up, and I'll fetch you a bowl of broth."

"Oh, I don't want any - "

"Don't argue with me, young lady. I've been here for many years prior to your birth. I should think I'd know what would be best for my patients!"

And with that, she opens the door at the end of the room, and stalks out.

I'm in the hospital. And I don't even know why. Did I eat something wrong? Was I attacked by some creature? I have no -

"Oh _thank_ the _heavens!_ Paulo, she's alright! PAULO!"

Oh dear Merlin...

"She's awake?"

"Yes, now come! It's not dangerous, come in!"

Looking up from my bed, I watch as my parents make their way awkwardly to me. My father has on a skeptical face, while my mother is trying to look calm, but failing.

"Hi Mum, Daddy," I say, smiling feebly at them once they've reached my bedside. "How are you?"

"Now, that's an interesting question," my dad replies, dropping his skeptical look and replacing it with a genuine happy one. "Your mother and I are fine. But what about _you?_ You're the one stuck in this... well, this... _place_."

"Hospital, Paulo. _Hopistal_!" my mother hisses. "This is, indeed, a hopspital, is it, Katie?"

"Of course it is," she answers herself a minute later, for I was staring at her. "It's white and very clean anyway."

"What are you doing here?" I hear myself blurt out, looking from one parent to the other.

"We were sent an owl, telling us your were hospitalized at some place called St. Mungo's." Dad shoves his hands in his pockets, rocking on his feet. "And we came quickly. Although it took us quite some time to figure out how to actually get here. If it weren't for your friend George Weasley, we might still be wandering the streets of London."

"Yes, he's such a lovely boy," Mum says fondly. "But what about his twin? He's the one with the twin, isn't he?"

"Fred and I aren't on speaking terms."

At once, both my parents jerk their heads in my direction, giving me a stern look. "Katie, you shouldn't be mad at your friends," Mum tells me, shaking a finger. "You never know when you'd last see them. And considering _your_ circumstances - "

"I'm _fine,_ Mum!"

"You _weren't_ fine two days ago! And you sure gave everyone a scare when you didn't wake earlier!"

"But I'm fine now. If I weren't, I wouldn't be talking to you!"

"True enough," Dad replies, smiling at me and ruffling my hair. "Our little babe is an adult now, Vecita. She can take care of herself."

My mother gives a cluck. "She can take care of herself, yet she lands herself in the hospital."

"Broth!"

All our heads turn to the door, as I see the plump woman carry a tray and a bowl of piping soup. Settling it upon my lap, she puffs up my pillows and says, "I want you to finish all of it. No arguments."

"Oh, you're very kind to out daughter," my mother says, smiling at the womna. "Thank you for your hospitality, Ms...?"

"Healer Stutton," the woman replies, and she waddles to a cabinet on the other side of the room.

"Healer Stutton has been looking after you," Mum says.

I roll my eyes at her. "No kidding, Mum."

"Oh, I'm not kidding. If it weren't for her, who knows what would've happened to you!"

Geez...

"Lance is doing fine," my father quips, trying to break off the tension.

"What's new with Lance?" I ask, grateful for the change of topic.

"Oh, he's just gotten a raise," my father replies proudly, his eyes shining. Funny, he's never had the eye shine thing whenever he spoke about me.

"_And,_" my mother adds, her smile glowing brighter, "he's getting married!"

Huh. Now that's something. My brother Lance, getting married. "To who?"

"Geraldine, silly goose. You've met her."

"Is she that really smart one?"

"You're brother is quite smart, so it balances out anyway."

"I'm smart."

"Of _course_ you are, dear," my father says, patting me on the shoulder.

Now I remember why Io hate discussing my brother. How can that have possibly slipped my mind? It's not that I don't like my brother. I do, I like him very much. Sure, we might not be the closest of siblings, since he's a muggle and I'm not. We can't talk much about work because he doesn't know what on earth quidditch is. And I'm not as smart as him, and I've never taken science courses.

I just hate how he's the favourite and I'm not. But let's not get resentful. We're both adults now. I can handle it.

And as if right on cue to save me, George and Nasuada enter the room, rushing up to me.

"You're alive!" George says cheerily. "Excellent!"

"I'm so glad you're okay, Katie! You have _no_ idea how much you've worried us!"

"Come on, Vecita," Dad says, taking Mum's hand and dragging her to the door. "Let's leave Katie alone with her friends for a while."

"But - "

"You haven't eaten in two days. Let's go find some sort of restaurant in here. It can't be so hard..."

"Just ask the Welcome Witch," George calls out to them.

"Thank you!" my father calls back. "We'll see you later, kiddo!"

"Bye Daddy. Bye Mum."

As soon as the door clicks, I turn my head to find Healer Stutton bent over a pile of sheets, folding them neatly into squares. I return to George and Nasuada, who are looking at me as if I were the most fragile thing.

"What happened?" I ask them. "How the heck did I end up here in Mungo's?"

They both look at me startled. "You don't remember?"

"No..."

"And I should think not!" a muffled voice says, as Healer Stutton passes over us, dumping an armful of folded sheets to the empty bed beside me.

"What happened?" I ask her, ignoring George and Nasuada's looks of concern.

"Hit by an extremely powerful stunning spell, disarming spell, and a heavily disguised body-boil-breakout spell. Quite powerful wizards who hit you, surprisingly."

Powerful wizards who hit me? Oh good god, is You-Know-Who back or -

"Alan and Oliver!" George rolls his eyes, biting his tongue. "I would've thought you'd remember _that._"

"I was _trying_ to work it out," I say irritably.

"Powerful as it was, you're okay now," Nasuada says soothingly, rubbing my arm. "And we're content with that."

"So where _are_ Oliver and Alan?" I ask, looking around the room.

"Bombarded by the media, having many serious discussion with their coach, and being put in decision for a trial for harming a Ministry of Magic employee," George replies, ticking off their whereabouts with his fingers. "They did say they'd drop by to visit though. Of course, neither are still talking to each other."

"We're quite mad at them,": Nasuada says lightly, perching herself at the foot of my bed. "Who did they think they are, attacking each other in the Ministry itself."

"Sorry, Nasuada, but us men _do_ have much testosterone," George says, rubbing his fingers on his chest.

"Well to heck with them. You're better off without them anyway, Katie."

No I'm not.

"Media, you say?" I sit up straighter on my bed. "You mean there's - "

"Articles in the paper? Yeah." George walks over to a chair, holding up a section of the Daily Prophet. "Here, have a go."

He tosses the paper to me. Nasuada quickly grabs the tray from my lap, as the paper lands neatly on my knees. On the front cover, headlines say, '_Chasing and Beating for a Gal_'.

"_What the fuck?_" I say, laughing at the headline. "What kind of messed up headline is that?"

"The story's interesting enough," George says, walking over to me. He takes the tray from Nasuada's hands and sets it on the bedside table. "Go on. Read it."

"No thank you, I'd rather not." I fold the paper neatly back into its original state and hand it back to George.

He givews me a shrug. "Suit yourself."

"Why don't you want to read it?" Nasuada asks, sitting up on the bed.

"I prefer not to have anything to deal with the both of them at the moment."

"Smart move," George says, coming over to Nasuada's side and putting his hands on her shoulders. I watch their exchange of smiles.

"So whats up with you two?"

"Oh, we're fine," Nasuada answers. "We've been here since you arrived and - "

"No, I meant, is anything happening between the both of you? Because you seem quite comfortable with each other."

But before either of them could answer, the door bursts open as Alicia, Angelina and Fred tumble into our wake.

"Hooligans!" Healer Stutton cries, looking alarmed at the three newcomers. "Such atrocious behaviour in a hospital! Calm yourselves!"

"Sorry!" Alicia squeaks to her, while running up to me. "Katie? Are you okay? I hope you're okay! The Healers said you'd be fine, but then you didn't wake up when you were suppossed to and that got us all worred! I was supposed to come and visit you yesterday, but then my boss was an asscrack and held me back, so I couldn't and all but here I am, and how are you? Are you okay - "

"Alicia," I say, laughing at her. "I'm fine!"

"Well! That's good," she replies, clutching her chest. As she moves closer to me, Nasuada leaps off my bed and backs off to a corner with George. I turn away from her to see Fred and Angelina, staring trasfixedly on the floor.

"Hi," I say awkwardly.

"Hello," Fred eventually mutters. He's standing with his wife. So George is correct. I suppose they did apologize to each other.

"How are you Fred? I haven't spoken to you in a long time."

"I'm very fine. Thank you. Yourself?"

"I'm stuck in a hospital."

"Right."

"Well, it's good that you're doing alright."

"And good that you are as well."

"And what about you, Angelina?" I say tentively, peering at her through my eyelashes. "Are you doing okay?"

She nods feebly at me. Then out of nowhere, she walks over to my bedside. Alicia scoots away, to where George and Nasuada are. I watch as she takes in the two of them, and then turns abruptly away. George has a slight flush on his face, while Nasuada has a puzzled feature. I turn my attention back to Angelina.

"Katie - "

"Yes?"

"I'm really - "

"I know."

"No, you don't. I'm really really - "

"I know, Angelina. And you know what, me - "

"You really don't have to be!"

"But I am!"

And so am I!"

"Forgive me?" we both blurt out, and then laugh, hugging each other. "Yes!" we both say together, embracing fiercer.

"_Finally_," mutters Alicia.

I look up from Angelina's shoulder to look at Alicia. "So I take it you two made up as well?"

"Had to, or else they wouldn't have known what happened to you. At least I got them here," she replies, with a satisfied smile on her face.

"Glad you did so, then," I tell her, returning to my hug. "Fred, get over here!"

At once, I feel the presence of Fred and he bundles us in an even more tighter hug. We finally let go, smiling at one another.

"So you're okay?" Angelina asks, settling into the chair near my bed. I watch her gingerly set herself down, the lump in her dress bulging.

"I'm fine!" I cry, getting a bit annoyed with the question.

"Good."

I smile contently, looking arounf bthe room at my closest friends. My eyes land on Nasuada, as I can sense her uncomfortably looking around at everyone else in the room. I forgot she only knows George.

"Everyone," I suddenly saying, gesturing to Nasuada. "I'd like you to meet my very good friend from the Ministry - "

"Nasuada Keele."

I raise an eyebrow at Alicia, for she is the one who completed my sentence. I glance over at Nasuada, who has a sort of freaked out face on, and George, who's visage has turned to stone.

"How do you know my name?" Nasuada asks, trying to keept her voice friendly.

"You were the Ravenclaw in the year below Angelina, Fred, George and me. You were always there in the library, asking Madame Pince to look for a bunch of books."

Who knoew Alicia would even remember Nasuada.

"So how would you know my name?" Nasuada asks again.

"You were very popular amongst the boys."

"I was?"

"Sure. Every boy from the age of fourteen to seventeen had quite naughty - "

"That's _enough_, thank you, Alicia," George says loudly, making it clear to Alicia not to finish her sentence. He puts a protective arm over Nasuada's shoulders. A small glint of anger rushes through Alicia's face, but it disappears as quickly.

"Whatever," she mutters, shrugging. She offers a wide, fake smile to Nasuada, extending her hand. "I'm Alicia Spinnet. I used to date George, by the way."

Silence runs around the room. Nasuada stiffens in George's grasp. George narrows his eyes at Alicia. Fred looks over at his brother, with an impressed look, and then over at Nasuada, with a look of approval. Both my eye brows are raised, as I bite my bottom lip.

Angelina, however, shakes her head at Alicia. "Was that really necessary?"

Alicia shrugs again, almost ignoring Angelina altogether. Her hand is still extended, and she looks at Nasuada expectantly.

Hesitantly, Nasuada takes Alicia's hand and shakes it harshly and quickly, before letting go. Instead of going back to George, she takes a step to the side, until they are seperated by at least two metres. Alicia turns away with a smirk on her face.

"Anyway," I say slowly, taking my attention off Alicia. "Nasuada, this is Angelina and Fred. Fred is George's twin, but I suppose you've guessed that. Angelina here is his wife."

Angelina smiles warmly at Nasuada, while Fred gives her a look of reassurance from what she had endured a few moemnts ago. Bless them.

"So anyway!" Alicia announces, picking up a bag at the foot of my bed. "We got you a load of presents, Katie."

"Wow! Thanks!" I exclaim, as Alicia dumps the bag on my legs.

"Every Flavour Beans, Coconut Creams, Ice Mice, Pasties, Peanut Butter Caramel Chews, Honey Nut Brittle and Chocolate Covered Raisins," Fred says proudly, nodding to my legs. "We got all your favourties."

"Brilliant!" I cry, tearing at the Coconut Creams. I'm about to pop one into my mouth, when a strong hand grips my wrist.

"I should think _not!_" Healer Stutton says, taking the cream from my fingers. She places it back into its box, and collects the sweets, sweeping them back into the bag. "No candy until you are fit to have some. If you're hungry, you should tell me!"

"But I don't want any broth" I whine, yanking my wrist from has grasp. "I hate broth!"

"I wasn't going to give you broth."

"You gave it to me last time."

"You needed fluids! Of course I gave you broth. But you're to get meals now, since you've digested the broth. Now, are you hungry?"

"Yes."

"Then you should have just said so instead of endangering your health. Now you wait a few minutes while I get you your food, young lady. Don't you move!"

As she makes her way out the door, I make a face at her back. As nice as she is, she gets on my nerves.

"Um, Katie," Nasuada suddenly says, walking over to me, but not too close. "I'm really sorry I can't stay any longer, but I have to go."

"Why?" I ask, disappointment in my voice.

"Oh, well, you see, I have things to do - "

"Please, don't let us get in your way," Alicia replies, waving her hand. "Bye Nasuada. Have a good day."

I glare at Alicia, who ignores me, and turn back to Nasuada. "Are you sure you can't stay any longer?" Stay or wont, that is.

"I'm sure," she answers. That's a won't for sure.

"Well... okay." I bite my lip in annoyance. "Come back though, will you?"

"Of course I will," she tells me, grinning at me. "And don't misbehave yourself, Katie. Healer Stutton's quite a fierce woman."

"Kinda got that figured out."

"Bye Katie. Feel better, okay?"

"I will!" I claim, placing my hand on my heart.

"Bye Nasuada," Fred and Angelina say together.

"Bye!"

"Bye," George says quietly.

"Bye," Nasuada mutters, not looking at him. As the door closes behind her, Alicia grumbles, "Thank Merlin _she's_ gone."

Silence. Awkward, uncomfortable silence. Sheesh. I don't want to get into another fight with Alicia. We just got back on good terms. But I refuse to let her be so...

Well, I can't say rude. Because she wasn't exactly rude. I can't say mean... Because, afterall, she was quite polite in her own way.

I hate it when she traps me.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" So I guess I don't even have to say anything. I look over at George, who's got a red face on. Horrible with his hair colour to be frank.

Alicia looks evenly at him. "What do you want?"

"I want to know what the hell is wrong with you!"

I take a glance at Angelina and Fred, who seem to be in the same boat as I am. Of course, I've never seen George and Alicia screaming at each other, but I've heard it's pretty nasty when they do.

"Nothing's wrong with me," she answers offhandedly. "Unless you count getting burnt by tomato sauce yesterday, and then accidentally - "

"I don't care about that!" he hollers, throwing his hands into his hair. "What the hell did you have to do that for?"

"Do _what?_" Alicia asks, with a look of pure innocence.

"Chase her away! Damn, Alicia! You chased her _away_! What is your fucking problem?"

In reply, Alicia gives a shrug, and starts picking at her fingers. I can hear George breathing quite heavily now. Fred is tapping his fingers together, looking everywhere but at his brother and Alicia. Angelina, and the other hand, is looking evenly at the both of them.

"Alicia, are you okay?" she asks tentively.

"Fine," Alicia answers shortly, not bothering to look up.

"George - "

"_Fine._"

"Okay then. Alicia, what is bothering you?"

"Nothing, I'm fine."

"George?"

"_She_ is!"

"And why?"

"Oh, as if you don't know," he scoffs, flicking his hair out of his face. "She comes in here, and then spots Nasuada and me, and then she starts off being completely rude - "

"How was I rude?" ALicia challenges, rolling her eyes at him. "If I were rude, I would have never introduced myself. I would have never offered her a hand shake. And I would have never pleasantly bid her goodbye!"

"Oh, don't play the innocent card again, Alicia. What did you have to put in the 'I used to date him' thing for? And why did you have to make her feel so uncomfortable that she had to leave early?"

"You heard her, she said she had things to do! _Hello_, pay some attention - "

"No, _you_ pay some fucking attention!" George stalks over to Alicia, where he thrusts his face close to hers. Kinda creepy. "I don't know what the hell you're trying to do. I don't know what the hell your problem is. I don't care if you like her or not. Just fucking accept the fact that _I_ like her, and you can't do anything about it!"

Alicia grinds her teeth, but manages to get out, "Why do you think I care?"

"If you didn't, you wouldn't be acting like this!"

"Well, screw you, George. I don't give three shits on who you fucking snog with!"

"Then what the hell was up with that whole scene before?"

"Well, pardon me for acting the way I always do!"

"You're not pardoned, because you never act like that unless you're freakin jealous! Shit!"

"I'm not jealous!"

"Yes! Yes you are. You're jealous because I've moved on, and found a better person than you - "

"My ass!"

"You fucking better accept this, because I don't care about how you'll feel about Nasuada! I don't care if you don't like her. I don't even care if you hate her. Just leave her alone. And while you're at that, leave _me_ alone too!"

"You initiated this conversation!" Alicia screams, failing her arms in frustration.

"Becuase of your fucking attitude!"

"You know what, George - "

"You're jealous of her!"

"I am _not!_"

"Yes, you are!"

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes!"

"No, I'm - "

"Don't even try to act like you don't care. It was your fault we broke up. Every time we were together, it was _your_ fault we broke up. It was you being all tossy in the relationship! You wanted out. And you've done it. Don't fucking expect me be waiting at your beck and call, Alicia. I'm fucking tired of waiting. You know, you're not even _worth_ waiting!"

My head flips over to Alicia, who's mouth is agape. But before she can answer, George once again takes the opportunity.

"You made me lose a fantastic girl, you know that? I really liked Maurie, and then you had to swoop in and scare _her_ away too! Well, I don't want you scaring this one away! I _like_ Nasuada, and I won't let you and your fucking schemes chase her away. Geez. That's your problem, Alicia, isn't it? You're never satisfied until you get what you want instantly."

And with that, George turns on his heels and stalks away to the door. Before closing it behind him, he utters, "It's nice to see you again, Fred, Angelina. Get better Katie, I'll see you tomorrow."

He slams the door behind him, and once more, a ringing silence fills the room again.

Taking a chance, I slowly look over to Alicia, who seems to look quite composed, for somebody who's just been yelled at. I wonderhow she does that. Doesn't she feel even the slightest bit uneasy? I mean, I know _I_ do.

"Alica, maybe - "

"_Don't_, Angelina," Alicia cuts her off, folding her arms together.

"Maybe you should - "

"_Don't._"

Angelina gives a long sigh. From the corner of my eye, I can see her rubbing her forehead.

"Alicia," I start, "before you tell me to stop - "

"Katie - "

"Just listen, okay?"

Her mouth straightens into a thin line, as she pauses. She gives me the slightest glare, before raising her eyebrows at me.

"Thank you," I breathe. "First of all, what was all that about?"

"What?"

"That whole scene."

"You mean George's scene. _I_ didn't make a scene."

"You know what I'm talking about."

Fred, Angelina and I all watch her as she shifts uncomfortably in our gaze. Determined not to answer us, she taps her foot on the ground. Until Fred breaks.

"Are you jealous?" he asks tentively. At an instant, Angelina shoots her husband a look, as I flinch.

One...

Two.. -

"_EXCUSE ME?_"

And there it goes.

"Did you just call me _jealous_?" she says, her breath coming out in heavy and short.

"N-no! I was just _asking_ - "

"Because I'm _not_ jealous! Why would you _think_ I'm jealous? Huh?"

"I was just merely _suggesting_ that - "

"I'm _not_ jealous! Why would I be jealous of that girl anyway? She's _nothing_ compared to me! I'm so much better. I have a better career, I have a prettier face - "

"I didn't say you were - "

"She's not _that_ great, you know," Alicia says, as she paces around the room, her hands flying in every direction. "I'm older! I'm more sophisticated. How can I possibly _not_ be better than her? I work for _Witch Weekley Magazine_, compared to her... _government_ job - "

"_Hey!_" I protest, feeling a bit burnt. "_I_ work for the Ministry!"

Ignoring me, she continues on with her rant. "You know, she really isn't that pretty. I mean, sure, she's got the whole... brown, luscious, wavy, full bodied hair thing, and big round green eyes... and... well! I look better!"

No offense to you, Alicia. But you actually _don't_.

Not that she's bad looking either. I just personally think Nasuada's better.

"I'm not jealous, Fred."

"I didn't say you were!" Fred cries, rolling his eyes. "I was just asking if you _might_ be - "

"_I'm not!_"

"I _know_ you're not - "

"What does he see in her anyway?" she suddenly yells, her eyes narrowing at me. "You're better friends with him than all of us, Katie. You tell me."

Aw crap. "Umm.. you know, you could ask Fred, since they're brothers and all..."

"Don't drag me into this," warns Fred, scoffing. "I don't wanna live in drama, thanks."

Whatever, Fred. You're living in it already. What with your has-been-estranged wife and all.

"So Katie. Tell me. What does he see in her?" Alicia asks, her foot tapping impatiently on the floor, staring at me with such a ferocity in her eyes it feels like she's burning two holes into my healing skin.

"Why do you want to know?" I ask her, already starting to shrink in case she decides to yell again. Geez, she's such a big yeller.

"Just _tell_ me!"

"Tell me why you want to know."

"Maybe she's jealous," I hear Fred whisper audibly to Angelina. Quickly, my head darts over to Alicia again, but it doesn't seem as if she's heard him.

"Why does he like her, Katie? Why can't he just choose someone else?"

"Would it make a difference to you if he chose someone else?"

While waiting for my answer, I can see her mouth quivering. She's working up something to say in her brain. She's going to lie. Of course she's jealous. Maybe she still likes him.

"Of course it would," she finally stammers, looking up at me haughtily.

"What if it were me?"

"_Nonsense_ Katie. _You_ like Oliver"

"I _don't!_" I shriek, crossing my arms together.

"Fine, you like the other guy."

"You mean Bellesque?" Fred interjects, but quickly ducks when Alicia throws him a glare.

"He has a _first _name, you know!" I tell him, rolling my eyes at him.

"See?" ALicia says, smirking at me. "You like him."

"What - ! No, I don't!"

"Anyway, back to what we were talking about before. Why does he like her?"

Because she's more mannered than you. "I don't know, Alicia. I don't know the way George's brain works when it comes to the opposite sex!"

"She's not that great - "

"You _said_ that already," I grunt, lying back down in my bed.

"Is it her breasts? I have to admit, she's got big - "

"_Alicia!_" I cry, throwing one of my pillows at her. "My god!"

"I'm just commenting on how her - "

"Please don't!"

"I don't mind hearing about assets," murmurs Fred. I distincly hear a slap sound, and then Fred wincing.

"So what does he see in her?" she demands, stamping her foot on the ground.

"I don't _know_, Alicia!" Frustrated, I slam myself back onto my pillows. "What does it matter who George likes? Why do you care? You were the one who broke it off with him! You were the one who always broke it off with him! And what do single people usually do? They go out and meet new people! And he met someone. Can't you just be happy for him? Because really, it's _your_ fault!"

"It's _not_ my fault - "

"Look, Alicia," I say, calming down and putting my arms around my head. "You're one of my very very _very_ good friends, and I love you. But really, it's your fault."

"How is it my - "

"Of all the relationships you've had, who broke it off?"

Silence.

"See? You can't really blame him, since he tried."

I look away uncertainly to Angelina and Fred, who shrug back to me. Alicia just sits there, chin in palm, fingers tapping the nose.

"Doesn't she have a boyfriend?" Alicia suddenly asks, her head jerking up and glaring at me suspiciously.

"Who?" I ask, shifting uncomfortably in the bed.

"Nasuada, who else!"

"Why?"

"Well," she says, getting up from her seat and walking around again. "Since she's got such a pretty face, with big breasts - "

"Merlin, Alicia - "

"With the big brown wavy hair, and such a pretty face, you'd think some bloke would've already gotten her first."

"Does it matter if she does - "

"_Yes!_" She'd walked up to me and just screamed in my face.

"Alicia! Be careful!" Angelina warns, stepping a bit away from Fred. "She's just been in shock! Don't kill her even more!"

"She's got a boyfriend, doesn't she?" she asks, leering at me.

Shrinking back into my pillows, all I can do is nod under her creepy gaze.

"I _knew_ it! She's having an affair!" Alicia announces, looking triumphant.

"She's _not_ having an affair -" I try to start, but she cuts me off.

"So what would you call going out with another man without her boyfriend knowing? How could she possibly cheat on her boyfriend? And here I thought she was such a _good_ person - "

"She's having troubles with her current boyfriend anyway."

"So? It doesn't allow her to go ahead and cheat on him with _my_ boyfriend!"

I raise my eyebrow at her as she clasps her hand to her mouth. Even Angelina and Fred are looking uncertainly at her. Did she just call George her boyfriend?

"Alicia, he's _not_ - "

"I _know!_ I just..."

"Alicia, are you okay?" Angelina asks tentively, walking around to put an arm around her.

Alicia mumbles something under her breath. I can see Fred straining to hear whatever it was she had just said.

"Alicia?" I ask quietly. She looks up to me with a defeated face.

"Yes?" she croaks slowly.

"I love George. He's my fest friend. Please don't make it any harder for him."

I know it's a bit heartless to say something like that at the moment, but really! I want George to be happy. And he's looking happier than all the times he's been with any other girl _ever._

"He's my friend too!" she exclaims, a bit strangled. "Well, he was. But what makes you think she's the one for him?"

I sigh inwardly. Obviously _you_ aren't the one for him. "I don't know."

"Well, whatever, katie. I'm going to find a way to stop this mess if I can - "

"Oh, Alicia, don't you even think about - " Angelina starts, but quickly stops when Alicia throws a look at her.

"I'll do what I like, thank you very much, even if it means that I'll turn out to be some complete psycho!"

"Sounds a bit desperate to _me_," I hear Fred utter to himself.

"_What?_" Alicia asks icily.

"_Nothing!_"

"And what do _you _suggest then, Fred?"

"I suggest you leave him alone and find yourself somebody new."

"I don't _want_ to!"

"Why _not_!"

"Because George and I are _meant_ for each other!"

"And then you'll break up with him again, and then get together, and then break up. It's like you're recycling him!"

Now that's a new term.

"I do not_ recycle_ him!" she cries indignantly. "And so what if we've broken up a few timers? We were young and silly - "

"It was _four months ago_!" Fred says, his eyes rolling.

But instead of answering, A;icia talks past him. "Do you guys think this is a good idea?"

"_No!_" Angelina and I answer together.

She bites her bottom lip and turns her back on us. "I don't care! Anyway, I'm off! Feel better, Katie. I'll pop in some other time!" And with that, she walks out of the room in fashion, clicking the door behind her.

"That girl is crazy," Angelina says, shaking her head.

"That girl's our friend," Fred says, sighing to himself.

That girl's got some major issues is what it is. Geez. Just leave George alone! She's the one who keeps breaking up with him anyway!

"She _did _break up with George, didn't she?" Fred asks, stroking his chin.

"Yeah, why?"

"Nothing. Just wondering."

"Why?"

"Well, if she broke up with him, why is she so concerned about him now?"

"It's called _jealousy_," Angelina says, rolling her eyes at him. "She's jealous of Katie's friend."

"I like Alicia, I really do," I tell them, shrugging. "I just don't think she's the right person for George."

"But George had this major crush on her," says Angelina, biting her lip. "Can he really just forget that?"

"He made it pretty clear to me that he didn't want anything to do with her. Romantically."

She's about to say something else, but at that moment, the door bursts open, slamming against the wall, as three little kids run up screaming at me.

"Auntie Katie! _Auntie Katie!_"

"Wow, you're in a hospital!"

"Did you break anything!"

Abruptly, Angelina and Fred step backwards to make room for the new company.

"Aunite Katie, can I see your scars?" Jean asks me, his eyes lighting up as he reaches my bedside.

I don't know what to say.

"Don't be gross, Jean," Fred says, coming over to rumple his hair. "And leave your Auntie Katie alone, she's just woken up today."

"So?" Jean asks. "Now that she's awake, she can talk!"

"Auntie Katie," Antonin says, coming over and pushing his brother away by the face, "if you have any dessert, can I have it?"

"Oh yeah, Grandma Molly says we can't have dessert - "

"Because of you, Jean! You're so stupid - "

"No I'm not!"

"Yes you are!"

"No I'm - "

"Stupid! Stupid stupid stupid head!"

"_Quiet!_" Fred calls out over the bickering. "You two'll wake up the entire hostpial if you keep shouting at each other!"

But the twins don't seem to be listening to their uncle, because suddenly, their argument turns into french.

"Je vous déteste!"

"Non, Je vous déteste!"

"Vous êtes moyen, et paresseux!"

"Arrêter l'hurlement!"

Angelina seems the most bewildered, as she looks uncertainly at Fred and me.

"Auntie Katie, can you make them stop?"

I look down to my left to see Jeffrey, standing there and staring at his cousins.

But it doesn't look like I need to stop them, because Angelina and Fred have just each picked up a twin and carried them to opposite sides of the room. They've stopped yelling. Of course, now they have these cute little angry faces on.

"Can I still have your dessert?" Antonin asks, ignoring the look on his brother's face.

"If they _give_ me dessert," I reply, smiling at him.

"Okay, anyway, back to the initial subject," Fred interrupts, an eager expression on his face. "What are we gonna do about George and Alicia?"

"Uncle George is marrying _Alicia?_" Three squeals errupt from around the room. I glance at Jeffrey, who's closest to me. He's got a shocked face on.

Jean crosses his arms. "Uncle George _cannot_ marry Auntie Alicia. Then he won't have time to play!"

Angelina, who's biting her lip, gives Fred a slap on the head. "Of course he'll have time to play with you, Jean. He'll have time to play with all of you. He'll always have time for you."

"No he won't!" Jean argues, his face blotching red. "The last time he was with her, he hardly visited!"

"It's true," Antonin adds. "And when he did come over, all he talked to Papa about was Auntie Alicia. It was a bit gross."

"Well, George _isn't_ marrying Alicia - "

"How do you know?" Jean cries, shaking his hands. "_How do you know?_"

"Because I know George."

"Do you love Uncle George?"

"Of course I love George."

"But you're suppossed to love Uncle Oliver," Jeffrey says, scratching his head in confusion. "_Everybody_ says you are."

The room becomes silent as everyone looks at me. Whatever man. If I'm suppossed to be in love with Oliver, I wouldn't be cursing him for putting me in this wretched place.

"I love George in a _friendly_ way, Jeffrey," I finally say, patting him on the shoulder. "Not... like _that._"

"That's what they all say," Antonin hisses at Jeffrey, looking highly doubtful at me.

"You guys, he's my best friend, of course I love him!"

Jean gives me one more look, then shrugs.

"Okay, anyway," Fred interjects, looking at me and his wife. "Maybe if they _did_ give it one more shot - "

"No," I say sharply, crossing my arms. "George likes Nasuada, so let him be, Fred! You can't force him to like Alicia, just because she's our friend and all - "

"Who's Nasasa?" Jeffrey asks, shaking my leg. "Who's Nasasa?"

"_Nasuada_," I pronounce carefully. "And she's one of my very good friends."

"How old is she?"

"Twenty-two."

"Like you!"

"Yes, like me."

"Is she pretty?" demands Antonin.

"She's very pretty."

"Is she smart?" Jean questions, looking uncertain.

"She was a Ravenclaw."

"Oh, okay."

"She seems like a better fit for George, doesn't she?" Angelina says, tapping her chin with a finger. "And I guess they're more in tune with each other than Alcia is."

"My suggestion is to let George decide," I say heavily, shaking my head fiercely. "I mean, he _does_ seem to flit a lot himself - "

"_Whoa!_"

Fred, Angelina and I pause as we hear Jeffrey, Jean and Antonin's exclamation, their eyes on the door.

"What?" I ask, as my head turns to the door.

Oh. That's why.

"He's from _quidditch!_" Jean whispers excitedly to his brother. "He's from _quidditch!_"

"I wonder how many brooms he has!" Antonin whispers back.

It even seems as though Jeffrey knows who he is. But considering the fact that his father is Harry Potter, flying expert, I guess he should know. "I saw him a boom once!"

"Hi Katie."

"Hello Alan."

"He _knows _Auntie Katie!" Antonin exclaims, as Alan makes his way towards me. "He knows her! Wow! Auntie Katie sure knows lots of rich people who play quidditch!"

"How are you feeling?" Alan asks, stepping up to my bedside. Angelina gently take Jeffrey by the hand and pulls him away to the corner where Fred and the twins are.

"Oh, I'm great," I reply, with a sarcastic hint to my voice. "Just smashing."

He gives me a small smile, then gestures to the small package in his hands. "I got you something."

"You didn't have to. But thank you."

He sets it down gently. "Look, Katie. I'm _really_ sorry - "

"It's quite alright."

"No, it's not. I know we got out of hand back there and I just wanted to apolog - "

"Alan, it's okay! It doesn't matter anymore."

"Well, it matters to me, and I just want to say sorry. And I'll pay for the damages! I mean, this wasn't even your fault and all - "

"You don't need to _pay_ for damages - "

"How much is that?" Antonin interrupts. "Don't they charge millions of galleons in this place?"

Alan bites his lower lip as he gives Antonin an awklward stare. "Who are you?"

"Antonin Weasley-Delacour," he announces, holding out his hand. "And you're Alan Bellesque! _I_ know you!"

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you too," Alan chuckles, taking the small hand in his own.

"Are you and Auntie Katie friends?"

Alan glances at me nervously. "I sure do hope so."

"Why do you hope?" Alan turns around in his chair, as Jean makes his way to the group.

"Well, I'm partly at fault for Auntie Katyie being in the hospital," Alan replies gravely. "And who might you be?"

"Jean Weasley-Delacour."

"And I'm Jeffy!" Jeffrey has now gotten out of the grasp of Angelina and ran here as quick as his small legs could carry him. "I'm Jeffy!"

"It's actually Jeffrey," I mutter to Alan. "He can't pronounce his r's very well yet."

"Why did you hurt Auntie Katie?" .Jean asks, his eyes narrowing. "What if she _died?_"

"I didn't intend to hrut her," Alan answers uncomfortably. "And I certainly _don't_ ever want her to die."

"So who else did this to Auntie Katie?" Antonin asks, looking intently between us.

"It's not really my place to say," Alan mumbles, even more uncomfortable.

"Auntie Katie, who else did this to you?"

I don't want to say it. I don't want to scar them forever. Oh great. Who am I suppossed to blame this on? Okay, okay. Just relax. A calm mind is more productive than a frantic one. So just calm down and think.

Damnit woman! Think!

_Think!_

Okay, I'm out of ideas.

"Auntie Katie, who - "

"Oliver!"

Oliver? I glance up quickly at Angelina, who just _had_ to say his name, but then realize Oliver's at the door. Looking quite smart and dressed up. And very awkward.

I watch as he steps quietly in, smiling tightly at Fred and Angelina.

"Unlce Oliver!" Jeffrey says, running up to him. "Hi Unlce Oliver!"

"Hi Jeffrey," he says absently, looking at me. "Hey Katie."

I can only nod. I am not ready for this. To be honest, I'm not even ready for _Alan_ being here! Oh geez. Now everything's going to be all weird, and then there'll be awkward silences. And I _hate_ awkward silences! Oh great. Okay, okay. One more time - just relax. Just think and relax. Or is that relax and think? Should I even _be_ thinking? Oh my gosh!

"Are you okay?" Oliver asks, his brow furrowing. He's rushing closer here. Oh no. No, this isn't good. What if they get into a fight again? Then we'll all be hospitalized, and the bills are going to get even higher! And Harry and Ginny will never forgive me if they found out I was the reason why their son's lost his arms! Neither will Fleur or Bill. Okay, calm down. Just calm down!

See? Exactly, Katie. All you needed to do was calm down and breathe. Exactly.

"Katie?"

"I don't know!" I hear myself shriek.

Oh Merlin. Did I just do that? What a complete dur-brain.

"Katie?' Alan asks, looking closely at me. "Do you need a nurse?"

"No! No no _no_, I'm fine, really. Seriously! Just dandy and utterling fi - Hey! Where are you going?"

I try to reach for him, but he stands up and says, "I'm going to go get you a nurse."

"No, _I'll_ go get the nurse," Oliver says curtly, waving his hand down at Alan.

"No, _I'll _get the nurse," Alan fights back, ignoing Oliver's wave.

"No, really. _I_ can get the nurse - "

"_I'll_ get the nurse - "

"I don't _need _a nurse!" I cry, slamming my fists down on my sheets. "I'm fine, okay?"

Actually, I'm not fine. But I don't need a nurse.

"I think we should be going now." I look at up at Angelina, who's playing with her fingers. "You know, give you three some time alone and... um..."

"Get to know each other again?" Fred offers weakly. My eyes instantly narrow at him. "I mean to apologize to each other?" I hear him squeal as Angelina punches him in the arm. "No, I meant, to just like... you know, so you can stop being just ninn - what I mean is, so you guys can like, converse and stuff - "

"Fred, please just shut up," Oliver interrupts, shaking his head at Fred.

"Right you are, Oliver!" Fred says weakly. "So, Angelina and I shall be off now. And I suppose we'll take Jean, Antonin and Jeffrey too."

"But I don't _want_ to leave!" Jean insists, clinging onto a corner of my bed.

"Too bad," Fred replies, coming over and plucking his nephew away. "Say bye to Katie. And... Oliver and Mr. Bellesque."

Three sighs come from them as they say in unison, "Bye Auntie Katie, Uncle Oliver, Mr. Bellesque."

And with that, they march right out my door, leaving the three of us alone with a clink.

So! This is comfortable.

And quiet. Extremely quiet.

"You two didn't have to come," I say into the silence. "I mean, I'm pretty sure your schedules are quite full - "

"I wanted to," Alan says earnestly. But then he glances back at Oliver. "Well, I wanted to. I can't really speak for him - "

"Of course I wanted to!" Oliver answers angrily. "What, do you think I'm that heartless - "

"Did I _say_ you were heartless?" Alan fights back, turning completely away from me.

"Well, it's pretty obvious what you implied - "

"Oh, just stop being so thick Oliver. I only meant I can't speak for you - "

"You just want to make me look bad - "

"Okay, can you guys just stop arguing for once!" I yell, in order to make myself heard. "Just stop! Stop yelling at each other! You're suppossed to be friends!"

At the last comment, Oliver rolls his eyes while Alan makes a weird noise.

"Come on you guys," I sigh, rubbing my forehead. "Weren't you two the best of friends or something?"

"We were," Alan says shortly. "_Were._"

"So can't you guys just forgive and forget?" I ask desperately. "It's pretty exhausting, you know. Hearing you two bicker like fifteen year old girls - "

"_Fifteen year old girls?_" Alan repeats, giving me a disgusted face.

"Yes! Fifteen year old girls arguing about which boy likes whatever and all - "

"Well, _he's_ the one who betrayed me!" Oliver starts, but I talk first.

"You see? Oliver, stop carrying on with these dumb accusations!"

"He did!"

"How!" Alan demands, standing up and facing Oliver.

My god.

"Katie and I were having a wonderful time - "

"You call abandoning her for a couple of groiupies fun?"

" - and then you just waltzed in and ruined everything! You just had to go and take her away from me - "

"She ran away from you because you were being such a jerk!"

"I _told_ you I liked her! Why do you insist on breaking rules?"

"_What_ rules!"

"The rule of not going out with the person your friend likes, dumbass!"

Well, he's got a point.

"How could I have taken her away from you, _when you never had her!_" Alan cries, running a hand through his hair.

"I did! I did have her, and you broke it! Yeah, that's right! Y'broke it!"

"_Shut up_!" I holler, glaring at them. They instantly stop and face me. "I don't care who had what or when they had it or - _whatever!_ Just shut up! Let's just all be civilized people, and talk this out nicely! Okay?"

Two grunts. I get two grunts.

"Okay!" I roll my eyes and beckon them both over. Oliver even brings another chair forward, but places it far away from Alan.

"So!" I say, stalling for time. How should I start this? Okay.. civilized conversation. "Alan, how about you go first?"

"Why's _he_ going first?" Oliver barges in, looking affronted. But I give him a look and he shrinks back.

"Okay, what do you want me to say?" Alan asks, unsure about the situation.

"Say anything. What would you like to say to me? Or to Oliver for that matter?"

"I just want to tell Oliver to get that fucking stick out of his ass."

Sigh.

"Oh, why don't you go suck an egg!" Oliver retorts, making a noise with his teeth.

"Seriously people! Seriously!" I give Alan a slap with the back of my hand. "What else?"

"I also would like to tell him that - "

"You know, you can speak directly to me," Oliver says sarcastically, rolling his eyes at him. "Geez."

"Fine! I don't understand why the hell you're being so anal!"

"Anal!"

"Yeah! _Anal!_ I wasn't trying to take her away from you - "

"You were!"

"Wasn't!"

"_Oliver!_" I hiss, making him shut up.

"Anyway," Alan says, scrunching his face at Oliver. "Like I said, I wasn't trying to take her away from. I wouldn't do that to you."

"Yeah, right."

"Oliver!" I repeat! "Let him talk. You'll have your turn later!"

"I don't get why you have to be so fucking stubborn!" Alan cries, glowering at Oliver. "I mean, what the hell do you think I did? Give her a good snog?"

"For all I know, you could've done!" Oliver retorts, his hands shaking. "You practically slept with her - "

"Okay, that one's not true!" I ay, throwing Oliver a face. "I slept over at his house! I did not sleep _with _him - "

"You slept with him in the same house! That - to me - defines sleeping with each other - "

"Oh, stop being such a prude, Oliver!" Alan rolls his eyes, breathing loudly. "We didn't even touch each other - "

"I knew you were trying to get with her! I knew it! You're such a smarmy bastard, you know that - "

"_I WASN'T!_"

With this, Oliver and I both instantly shut up. My eyes are big with fear, as Alan's face has suddenly gone crazy red, and he looks thunderous.

Lovely, nice Alan looks like a monster.

Interesting.

"For the last fucking time," he yells - of course, this is directed to Oliver, "I wasn't trying to sleep with her, I wasn't trying to kiss her, nor did I _ever_ have any of those intentions, okay? She's my friend, and being friendly, I offerred her a place to sleep, because it was late and she was alone! And since you were all busy with your fan base, I figured she at least needed attention from someone - "

"Oh, that's fair," Oliver mutters, glaring at Alan.

"Oliver - just - just shut up! Why don't you listen? I don't like her the way you do! She's my friend, and that's all! Why can't you accept that? Why do you insist that we're secretly having an affair behind your back?"

"You invited her to sleep over at your house while she was on a date with _me_, idiot!"

"Merlin, _you're_ the idiot! Katie, do you like me?" Alan demands, not taking his eyes off Oliver.

"As a friend," I reply uncertainly.

"You see, Oliver? _You see?_ Doesn't that solve your problem? We don't like each other like that! She likes you - and it's pretty obvious she does! So can't we just... forget about this whole entire thing? Because it's pretty pointless fighting over something this stupid - "

"You like me?" Oliver asks weakly, looking at me.

"Well, if I didn't, why would I have agreed to go on a date with you?" I snap, sighing at him.

"Geez Oliver," Alan says, running a hand over his face. "Do you get it now?"

"No."

I want to kill him. _I want to kill him_.

"Oliver!" I say,getting out of bed and walking towards him. He sort of shrinks back, but I hold onto his shoulders. And shake. "There is nothing between Alan and I! Do you understand? Do you? Nothing! There is nothing! We are friends who respect each other's spaces and wishes! So take your head out of your ass, and please understand what the hell happened that night! Okay?"

"Why did you leave?" he asks in a tiny voice.

Now I just want to slaughter him.

"Because you left me!"

"I didn't leave you! I was right there!"

"Well, you left me for your fans! You left me sitting there waiting for over an hour, when you said you'd be _right back_ - "

"I can't disappoint my fans!"

"But you can disappoint me."

"No! I never said that!"

"Well, you did anyway."

The room grows tensely silent as we all try to avoid looking at each other.

"So..." Alan's voice raises tentively through the silence. "Are we okay?"

He's looking at Oliver, who gives a small shrug and an "uhhnugh"... whatever that means.

And a short exchange of tiny smiles, a punch on the arm for Alan from Oliver...

Okay, they're good. Oddly exchanged, but they're good.

Stupid jerks.

They both sort of smile at each other awkwardly, not daring to look into either's eyes. What the fuck? Just look at each other. Golly.

"Ahem," I cough, breaking their little voiceless apology. "I don't mean to interrupt anything, but... if you guys are done, are you going to leave? Because, really, there's no point in you staying if all you're to do is smile at each other and all."

"No, I think_ I'll_ leave." Alan says, getting up from his seat. "Besides, I'll see you two in the near future. Actually, I'm coming back tomorrow, Katie. But I think you and Oliver need a talk."

You know, now that I think of it, Oliver and I have had many talks in the past.

Many, many talks.

Without another word, Alan steps out of the room, holding up a thumb for me, and disappearing behind the door.

Great. Just me and Oliver here. Just me and Oliver.

Lovely. Extremely, spit-in-your-mouth-kick-you-back-in-the-ass lovely.

... And he's not speaking. No, not at all.

"Well?" I demand, slamming myself back down on the bed. "You came here for a reason. What is it?"

"No need to be so rude about it," he says cooly, leaning back onto the chair.

As I make a noise, he says, "Look. I know we're constantly bickering and everything, but I just want you to know that most of the time I don't really mean it."

"Yes you do."

"No, I don't."

"Oliver, I'm pretty sure you do. All those comments you've said to me in the past are still locked up here." I point to my head with a strict finger.

"You've said some things to me worth remembering to you know," he cuts back hotly. "See? We're at it again."

"No, we're not. Don't be stupid. We're having a civilized conversation."

"Katie, arguing our balls off isn't civilized."

"Yeah, well! You start most of it anyway!"

"No, I don't - "

"Whatever you so are - "

"I don't! And you know, this thing wouldn't have started if you didn't just have to run off - "

"I ran off because you left me first!"

I stop myself, as we're both fuming red and glaring at each other.

"I don't like Alan, okay?" I cry, wrapping my head with my palms.

"Then why did you go back with him?"

"It was coincidental, and we got to talking, and he invited me back, and I spent the night! Geez! It's not like anything happened - "

"But how would I know - "

"Merling Oliver! We just went through this minutes ago! Nothing happened between me and Alan! And why are you questioning me? Why should I have to be the one explaining myself? What the fuck was up with you? You left and never came back on our date - "

"If you had waited a few more minutes, you would've _seen_ me, coming back - "

"But why did it have to take so long? I'm tired of waiting Oliver. I don't like waiting - "

"Well, that's just what's wrong with you! You have no patience - "

"I _have_ patience!"

"You won't even let me complete a fucking sentence!" he hollers, shocking me until I collaspe into my bed.

"Neither will you!" I scream back.

"What in the world is going on?"

Both our heads flick up as Healer Sutton stands there, hand on hips, and looking most livid. "Why do I hear shouting from this room?" She crosses over as quick as a cat, and faces the both of us. "There will be no yelling in this hospital! And you, Miss Bell! You're not even completely recovered! Why are you damaging yourself like this?"

I hang my head, and give Oliver a glare, which he shoots instantly back at me.

"I know how passionate you young people are," she starts, tisking us. "But if you're going to get personal, don't do it here, thank you very much! Now if you'll excuse me, I have another patient to see to. If I hear even the tiniest glitch of sound coming from those doors, I will kill you."

She marches herself rigidly out of the room, closing the door quietly.

"See? Your fault," I hiss.

"My fault?" he questions indignantly.

"You provoked me!"

"I did not!"

"You know, whatever Oliver."

"Okay, you know what, Katie?" he suddenly says, standing up and walking over to me. "Can't we just start all over? And forget this episode?"

"Uh, negative. It's a bit hard to forget while here in Mungo's."

"Look! I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry I '_abandoned_' you - "

"You did!"

"Am I denying it? Anyway, I'm just sorry. I didn't mean to leave you. I didn't mean to disappoint you. I didn't mean anything I said to you that morning, and I know I've been nothing but vulgar to you. I just don't want us to hate each other."

"I don't hate you," I sigh, rubbing my eyes tightly. "I'm just sick of you sometimes."

"Yes, that makes me feel _so_ much better."

I bite my lower lip nervously.

He speaks first. "Do you think we can still be friends?"

"Well, of _course_ we can be friends, Oliver. I was still your friend even when I was mad at you. I just disliked you."

"Gee," he replies toneless. "That's good to hear."

"I accept your apology, Oliver, even though I'm still mad at you some. And honestly, nothing even happened between Alan and me. Except some conversations about certain topics, but you know, that's basically it."

"So you think he really doesn't like you?" he asks, his face lighting up.

"Well, I dunno... he's pretty attentive and - "

"So he does? So he lied to me again - "

"I was just joking, Oliver," I tell him, rolling my eyes. "He doesnt like me. He's just trying to find the right girlfriend and all. Maybe him and Alicia could get it on - "

"No," he says firmly. "I don't want Alan with Alicia."

"She's our friend, you could at least cut her some slack - "

"No!"

"Fine, whatever."

"So, we're good, right?" he asks tentively, gesturing between us with his hand.

"Yes, we're good," I reply. "On one condition."

"What's that?"

"Well, actually two. The first is that you have to trust me and stop questioning me when I tell you something."

"Okay. What's the second?"

"That the next time - or, _if_ there is a next time that is - you ask me to dinner, you ignore your fans and just get the meal over with first."

"Will do," he answers, smiling at me.

"Great. So are we going for another dinner?"

"Yeah, sure. Once you get to digesting foods again."'

"I can digest just fine."

"_No_, you can't."

"_Yes_, can."

"Not solids."

"Yes, I can. Oliver, what the hell?"

"Trust me, Katie," he says, giving me a wicked smile. "I don't want you to throw up on my shoes or anything."

"Funny, Oliver. You're so funny."

He rolls his eyes playfully at me, then glances at his watch. "Well, I've got some penance to do for the team in a few minutes."

"How many minutes?" I ask, feeling something inside me sink a bit.

"Thriteen minutes ago."

My god. "Oliver, will you stop missing the times you're due in for work? Geez! Could it hurt to actually be on time?"

"I'm still their star player. I'm sure they can forgive me. Besides, Alan's there. They might not even notice me."

"But you just said you're the start player!"

"So's Alan. The Coach is probably too busy yelling at everyone else to figure out I've been missing for... fourteen minutes."

"Just go!" I cry, making fanning movements with my hands. "Come again to see me some other time. Before you get more punsihment."

"Nah, they can't give me anymore," he replies cockily. "If I miss any more, they'd be sorely losing."

He walks across the room, whistling. "Bye Katie. Thanks for the talk."

"Oliver!" I call, asa he turns around. "One more thing!"

"What?"

"I think you should stop acting so anal. Seriously."

Making a derisive noise, he waves to me and walks out.

So I guess it's safe to say that today was full of drama. Indeed, much drama. And here I thought drama got lost in Hogwarts!

But it's interesting drama. Very interesting drama.

* * *

kay so like. i know i know. where the fuck have i been?

school: essays, projects, reports, tests, presentations. grade 12 is a _very_ trying year. OH and university applications.

to make up for the long time i've been away (since august my gosh!), i've decided to update this before the new year. and because i felt bad. i really did want to update, but i guess i just never got around to it. but i did now, so yay?

so here it is folks: the longrst chapter yet. it may be laggy, but i really liked the way it turned out. some may disagree, but whatever to you.

review guys. reivew to keep me updating! woooot.


	19. Girls Have Most Fun Pretending

**a/n:** ok so like, _where the heck did everyone go?_ what i mean is, sure, i got loads of hits for this chapter, but where'd everyone who reviewed go? i literally went all out and gave you guys the biggest chapter of the entire story, and i get _nothing_. ok, sure, if some of you went on vacation, fine, i'd understand, but surely, not everyone's out of town! i just wanted some feedback. thanks guys.

for those who did review, thanks, because i really wanted to know how this story was shaping up to be

* * *

I hate today. Like, I really _really_ hate today. 

And no, I'm still not released from the hospital.

And _no_, I'm not in a state of depression.

Well, actually, that's debatable, considering the fact that I'd rather vomit myself to death than be here in this suffocating room.

Brothers are a curse. They are the ultimate curse to woman-kind.

Esepcially when that brother happens to have a fiance that is exactly like him. My _god._

"I can't _believe_ that a place like this actually exists! It's incredible!"

That's my almost-sister-in-law. The muggle who's never been exposed to the likes of witchcraft.

"I know! It was the greatest shock when our little girl got a letter from Hogwarts - " my mum boasts, laying a hand on Geraldine's arm.

"The school, right?" Geraldine asks, completely absorbed.

"Yes, exactly! The school sent her a personal note and all!"

Well of course it would be personal. How else would they have contacted me if I was a muggle?

Okay, I'll start from the begining. I was having a nice lunch of chicken noodle soup - soft noodles and shredded chicken bits to keep my solid-food digesting going as Healer Stutton put it - when my family came in. With my brother. And Geraldine, his _wonderful_ fiance.

Now, don't get me wrong. It's not that I don't like Geraldine. Or my brother for that matter. In fact, I completely _adore_ my brother...

Okay, that's a lie and we all know it. Whatever.

But I do treasure my brother. I mean, he's my only sibling. But it just makes me so mad that he's always outshining me in some way or another. And you would think that would be hard since I can do magic! But no, my brother, with the one-million-hundred-thousand-gigantic IQ, just so happens to be a rocket scientist. I mean, of all the unlikely jobs, he has to be a _rocket scientist_.

A rocket scientist! Those jobs are hardly _ever_ available! It's only open to the most elite. What the hell.

Oh, by the way, his girlfriend's just as smart.

She's a cancer research scientist. And everyone likes _her_, because she's dedicating her life to a good cause.

And it's not just their smarts that kill me. They're also good looking! It's not fair!

My brother is the mirror image of my dad - very dapper. He could get any date instantly. But no, he has to fall for stupid cancer-research chick. Who is also equally as good looking as him.

Fortunately, I beat her in one area. I'm two inches taller than her dumb five foot five.

"Kaite? Did you hear me?"

My head jerks up as my mother, who's speaking to me but not acutlaly looking at me, is smiling serenely at my brother and Geraldine.

"No, I didn't actually," I answer bluntly, picking up a spoonful of soup and dripping it back into its bowl. "Care to repeat it?"

My mother gives an exasperated _tsk_, and says, "I _said_, isn't it lovely how your brother has found his true love? He's getting married!"

"Oh yes. Very lovely."

"His wedding is going to be this May!"

"Oh, that's so awesome. Smashing."

"Katie, I have a question I'd like to ask you," Geraldine comments shyly.

"Alright," I answer loftily, playing with my soup again. Soup sucks.

"Could you - well, would you - like to be one of my bridesmaids?"

"Oh _Geraldine_!" my mother exclaims, rushing to my side and grabbing my arm. "Katie! Isn't that just _the_ sweetest thing? You! I bridesmaid at your _brother's_ wedding! Oh how wonderful!"

"Sure," I reply, not really wanting to be dragged into wedding talk.

"Thank you, Katie! You are the best!" Geraldine says, coming over and giving me a hug. I quickly try to squirm away, but it's a bit hard to do in a bed.

A wedding in May. Pft. Now let's recap on what I have for may...

Bagman's Spring Theme party. The stupid anual party during springtime in May. I'll try to skip that one.

The Weird Sisters' concert I'd promised Alicia I'd go to... not much of a fan of the group. But a promise is a promise.

And yeah! Gosh, I'm a dodo today. My - "

"They're having it on your birthday, dear!" I hear my mum's voice pierce into my thoughts.

"The wedding?" I ask in disbelief. No way are they having their wedding on my birthday!

"Yes, Katie, our wedding, on your birthday," comes Lance's voice, as he walks over and puts an arm around Geraldine. "We figured that it's your birthday and all, and we just wanted to make that day a day of two celebrations."

_A day of two celebrations?_

"But that's not fair!" I hear myself cry before I can stop myself.

"What do you mean?" my mother asks, her brow furrowing.

I take a look at everyone around me, who's got a disappointed look on their faces. "You can't have your wedding on my birthday! It's not fair!"

"Why not?" Lance questions, his grip on Geraldine tightening.

"Lance, it's my birthday! Sure, I'm happy for you and all, but there is no way I'm sharing my birthday with your wedding!"

"But why!"

"Because then it won't be special anymore!"

"Don't be silly dear, of _course_ it will be special," my father says, trying to console me.

"No, it won't be!" I argue, slamming my fist on my bed. "Everyone will remember it as the day of your wedding. Not my birthday! No one will remember my birthday!"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Katie, we'll remember your birthday," my mother prompts, sounding agitated. "So just pipe down and let your brother marry in harmony."

I don't believe this. She is actually egging them on to get married on my birthday.

"_No_!" I cry hotly. "I don't want them to get married on my birthday! Pick another date."

"But your birthday is perfect, katie," Geraldine exclaims, looking stressed out. "It's the first saturday of the month, and we've always wanted saturday!"

"Then do it the _following_ saturday!"

"But it's the first sunday of the month!"

"Then pick _another_ month!"

"But I've always wanted a wedding in May - "

"_No_!" I shout, throwing my spoon on the other side of the room. "I'm _sick_ of always stepping aside and - "

"_Katie Justice Bell_!" my mother yealls, outraged. "Where are your manners? You can_not_ talk to Geraldine like that - "

"I will if she gets married on my birthday!" I retaliate, giving her a look of equal anger.

"I think - I think I'll step outside for a moment," mumbles Geraldine as she walks out of the door.

As soon as the door clicks, my brother and mother start their own fireworks.

"Katie, what the _fuck_ is wrong with you?"

"No child I raised has manners as vulgar as _that_!"

"It's her _wedding day_! Can't you just suck in your pride and let her get married whenever she wants?"

"You _can_ share your birthday with the wedding! It will be a glorious day!"

"Katie, you are the _most_ selfish person I know!"

"My daughter with such a mouth! _Horrendous_!"

"_Dad_!" I holler above the both of them. "Don't you agree with me?"

Now, my father is one of those men that like to be kept out of messes. Especially messes that deal with family. So instead of answering he just sat down and scratched his chin.

Thanks a lot, dad.

"Excuse me, but I'll just go and find Geraldine," Lance grunts, stalking out the door. Without a word, my mother follows him. She glares at my father, beckoning him with evil eyes, making him dash behind her and leaving me alone.

So much for family I guess.

And bland chicken noodle soup.

And stupid gits taking my birthday and turning it into some dumb wedding day. I mean, can't they get married another fucking day? It's like they're doing it on purpose, getting married on _my_ birthday. Hasn't Lance shone enough? Now he has to permanently _dent_ my birthday and make it all about him and his smarto wife. _His stupid smarto wife._

Like shit I'm going to let them get married on my birthday. And I'll not show up for the wedding either!

And then I'll ruin the wedding... but then that would require me actually _being_ there...

So maybe, I could be there, and pretend I'm all happy and shit for them,. and then ruin it by throwing cake in their faces, and tripping them when they walk down the aisle together and -

Gosh, I sound like the most conniving bitch, don't I.

Whatever.

"Wow Katie. Would it kill you to smile?"

I roll my eyes as George comes into view, followed by Oliver. Thank Merlin some sane people have come to visit me. Well, George not so sane. Come to think of it, Oliver's not that sane eitherm what with his quidditchness and all...

"What happened to you?" George demanded, peering into my face. "Why are you so livid? Did we offend you by coming in or something? Because if we did, then it's too bad for you, so just suck it in - "

"Don't _anyone_ tell me to suck anything in again!" I cry, crossing my arms. "I'm not sucking _anything_ ever again - "

"I don't know why, but that sounded extremely enticing."

"Shut up, George."

"Just saying. But seriously. What the hell happened to you? You're never mad in the morning."

"Family," I grumble, glaring at my soup.

"Sorry?" Oliver says, straining his ear towards me.

"_Family_!"

"Oh are they_ here_?" he asks, looking nervously around.

"Are you scared?" George asks, smiling evilly at Oliver. "You're scared of Katie's family!"

"No I'm _not_! How could I be, when I've never even met them?"

"Ugh whatever," I cry, shaking my head. "They're being so... obtuse!"

"What's obtuse?" George asks, genuinely interested.

"Insensitive!"

"Oh, why?"

"Lance is getting married," I mutter, getting out of bed and walking around the room.

"Should you really be walking?" Oliver questions, rushing over to me with a chair.

"I'm _fine_, Oliver! I've been here for five days! I deserve to be walking!"

"Okay, nevermind the walking," George says, rolling his eyes at us. "What'd your family do this time?"

"What does that mean?" I demand, looking at him suspiciously.

"Just that you usually blame them and not yourself."

"I do _not_! You know that time when the vase broke it was _so_ not - you know, whatever man! This time, it's really heinous!"

"Okay, so _tell_ us!"

"Okay fine! So Lance is getting married - "

"Who's Lance?" Oliver asks, sitting down in the chair he was carrying. "And what vase?"

"Whatever to the vase," I reply, shaking my head. "Lance is my brother. My brother's getting married - "

"Congratulations to him then," Oliver interrupts, looking confused. "So why are you so mad then?"

"If you'll let me _finish_, I'll get to it!"

"Sorry."

"Okay, anyway," I say, throwing him a look. "Lance is getting married. With Geraldine - "

"Is she that really smart one?" George asks, his face screwing up in memory.

"_Yes_!" I cry impatiently. "Anyway, they want to get married - "

"Like, the _really_ smart one, right?"

"Yes! They want to get married - "

"Do you not want them getting married?"

"No, I don't _care_ if they get married or not, but they're - "

"Are you jealous that Lance is getting married and you aren't?" Oliver chuckles, shaking his head at me. "You shouldn't be. He's your brother."

"I'm not - "

"But you know, if you want to, we can change that," he says, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

"Now is _not_ the time for _that_, Oliver." My eyes narrow at him as he shoots me his innocent smile. "On the contrary, I'm not jealous, I just don't care. But they're getting married - "

"For someone who doesn't care, you seem to be talking about it much, aren't you," George says evenly, tapping a finger to his head.

"_Let me finish_!" I exclaim, walking up to them and waving my arms. "They want to get married in May!"

George gives me an odd look. "So? What's wrong with that?"

"Um, did you forget what May is?"

"All I remember is your birhtday - "

"_Exactly_!" I cry, rolling my eyes at him.

"Your brother wants to get married on your _birthday_?" Oliver asks, looking astonished.

"_Yes_!"

"Why?"

"I don't know! Maybe he's trying to steal my light again - "

"Oh for the love of Coconut Creams, will you just drop the _'stealing my light_' crap - "

"He _is_!" I shout, glaring at him. I turn to Oliver. "He _really_ is! Don't you believe me?"

"Well, I've never actually met your brother," Oliver stutters, but George cuts through him.

"Katie, I've met your brother many times and had a few conversations with him. He's not trying to steal _anything_ from you - "

"Oh, how would you know?"

"Maybe you're just jealous - "

"Jealous of what?" I demand, rushing up to him. "Just exactly _what_ am I jealous of, George?"

Before he has time to answer, the door opens again as my entire family and Geraldine walk in. I step quickly away from George a few inches, grab Oliver and pull him closer, and then stare at the enemy.

"We've decided to move the wedding to another day," Geraldine announces, not looking at me. "We've talked it over, and we're willing to sacrifice our want to get married on the seventh - "

"So now you're just guilt tripping me," I mutter under my breath, my nose sneering.

"I beg your pardon?" she asks politely.

"_Nothing_."

"As I was saying, we've decided to move the wedding to June. We realized it would benefit most of our guests also."

"Alright then," I say, climbing back into my bed. "That's all settled."

"Katie, aren't you going to say sorry to your brother and Geraldine?" comes my mother's annoying voice.

No, I am not.

But a look my father shoots me from behind everyone else tells me I should.

Fine. I'll just do it for the sake of my father - my favourite relative.

"Sorry Lance. Sorry Geraldine," I sigh, plopping myself down into my bed. "I sure have caused a rucus!"

Thankfully, my mother accepts my quarter-assed apology, and moves into the room, bringing the rest of her clan behind her.

"See?" she says into the silence. "Isn't this lovely? The family all gathered into one room. We haven't done that in a long time."

"You notice that we're only all in the room because I'm in the hospital," I say, glancing over at my mom. She gives me a look and turns toward George and Oliver.

"Good morning, George! And how are you?"

"Oh, just brilliant, Mrs. Bell!" he answers smoothly. "And I hope you're well too?"

"Yes yes, I'm doing much better now that everyone in the family is in the country!"

"And you, Mr. Bell?"

"Fine, thank you, George," my father says gruffly, shaking George's hand. "Thank you for helping our Katie to the hospital."

"And who is _this_ fine young man?" mum asks me, gesturing over to Oliver.

Thankfully I don't need to answer as Oliver introduces himself. "Hello Mr. and Mrs. Bell. I'm Oliver Wood, a friend of Katie's since school."

"So you're magical too?" my mother asks, nodding fervently at him.

My mother is just so...

No words. _No words_.

"Yes, I'm... magical too," he replies, holding in a quavering laugh.

"I'm Lance, Katie's brother," Lance says, holding out a hand to him. "And this here's my fiance, Geraldine."

"So, Oliver!" my mother exclaims, coming over to examine him. "Why haven't we heard of you before?"

"Oh! Well," Oliver answers, looking extremely self-conscious. "Well, uh... I haven't seen Katie in a few years since I graduated, and we recently have just been reacquainted..."

"How old are you?" she says, ignoring what he just said.

"Twenty-five, ma'am."

"And what do you do?" my father asks, interested.

"I'm a quidditch player."

My mother glances at my father, and then at me. "_Quidditch_?"

I look over at Oliver, who's extremely surprised. "Yes, _quidditch_! The... wizarding sport!"

"Oh, you're into _sports_ then?" my father pries, coming over, extremely piqued.

"You're a... _professional_, right?" my mother asks again, looking at him suspiciously.

"Incase you're wondering, mum," I break in, shaking my head at her. "Oliver is a _professional_ quidditch player, who plays for _the_ _best_ team in London. He's _quite famous_ in the wizarding world, being the _star player_ of the _Wimbourne Wasps_, and heaving in an _extremely heavy paycheque_. Satisfied?"

I stare at my mother, who's face seems to glow and is looking at Oliver in a brand new light.

"So you really like sports, don't you?" my father asks Oliver. He looks as if Christmas has come early.

"Yeah, ever since I was a kid," Oliver replies, relaxing in my dad's presence.

"Our Katie likes sports as well," my mother comments, patting him on the arm.

_Oh my god._

"So are you two an item?" she asks, breaking up the conversation between him and my dad.

So I guess my mom's straight to the point on that one.

"Well, it's a bit complica - "

"Because it's _about time_ Katie's found a boyfriend!" my mother announces.

My father and Geraldine stand there awkwardly. My brother is giving an exasperated look to my mother who's ignoring him and looking intently at Oliver. George is silently sniggering in the background and pointing at me. Oliver is as rigid as a board.

"Well, you see - " he stammers, but my mother gets there first.

"You're a _fine_ man, Oliver, and I'm sure you'd make the _perfect_ husband for our Katie!"

"Oh, thanks... but um - "

"And you're very _tall_. And _burly_. You're quite _handsome_, you know!"

Oh my god. This is not happening. This is _not_ happening. _This is not fucking happening_!

"Gee, thanks, Mrs. Bell - "

"You don't have a girlfriend, _do_ you?" she asks, looking suspiciously at him.

"N-no!" he exclaims, shaking his head. "No, I don't!"

"Well, our Katie here - "

That's it. I have to make her shut up. But how?

Right. So, think. Just _think..._

"Mum, Oliver and I are going out!" I announce, getting up from bed and walking over to them.

My mother gives me a shocked but pleased look. My brother's brow is furrowing, not knowing whether to believe me or not. My father nods approvingly, while George is laughing, and turning his head side to side.

Oliver gives me a confused glance, while I return one that gives off the message, _'Of course we're dating_!'. Forutnately, he gets the hint.

"_Yes_, mother! Oliver and I are dating," I repeat, standing beside him and linking my arm in his.

"_Wonderful_!" my mother cries, pushing me away and giving Oliver a fierce hug. "After lagging and_ all_ those casual dates, Katie has _finally_ found a keeper!"

"How'd you know I was a _Keeper_?" Oliver asks, looking very confused. "I didn't know you knew what quidditch _was_."

"What?" my mother says, leaning in.

"_What_?"

"I meant that... you were a _keeper_."

"And I'm just wondering how you_ knew_ I'm a Keeper..."

"What she means, _Oliver_, is that you're someone that Katie will _hang onto_." George walks over, his entire face red from laughing. "And what Oliver means, _Mrs. Bell_, is that his _position_ in quidditch, is _Keeper_."

"What is Keeper?" my mom questions, scratching her head at Oliver.

"I defend and protect the hoops."

"Like a _goal keeper_ in _football_," I add, rolling my eyes at her.

"You play _goal keeper_?" my dad asks, shoving my mother over and looking animated. "_I_ used to play goal keeper for my university team!"

"_University_?" George and Oliver say together.

"It's a type of schooling," I reply, getting back into bed again. At least mum's quiet now.

"_Fascinating_!" my dad exclaims, slapping Oliver on the arm. "You should come over for dinner sometime, and we'll discuss - "

"_Yes_! Come on over for dinner!" my mother says, clipping onto his arm. "We'd _love_ to have you over for dinner!"

"Oh, well, thanks," Oliver mumbles unsurely, looking over at me.

"You can come over next friday," my mother tells him, flipping open her agenda. "Yes, the doctor said - "

"What is doctor?" Oliver asks her, scratching his head.

"You don't know what a _doctor_ is?"

"You mean those muggles that _sew_ people?" George offers, nodding his head excitedly. "They sew you back together, don't they, Katie?"

"They sew your _wounds_, idiot," I reply, rolling my eyes at him. "A doctor is a healer in the muggle world."

"But Healers don't _sew_ people" Oliver says, clearly confused.

"Never you mind, Oliver," my mother says gently, patting his shoulder. "But the _Healers_ say Katie should be out of the hospital by the most two days! So next friday would be wonderful!"

"But - I don't know where your house is," Oliver says.

"Katie will bring you with us. I mean, you two are dating, so why shouldn't she?"

"_Great_!" my dad booms, shaking Oliver's hand animatedly. "And then we can talk about sports!"

Oliver gives an uncomfortable laugh. Geez.

"Well!" my mother says, looking around the reoom. "I guess it's time for us to go and leave you to your friends, Katie dear."

Finally. "Yes, yes it is."

"Okay then! Come on gang, let's leave Katie to her friends..."

I watch as my father follows my mother out the door with a final wave.

"Um, Katie, could I speak to you privately?" Lance asks, beckoning to the opposite end of the room.

Odd. Of all my years with him, Lance and I have never had anything secret. "Sure."

As I'm walking over, Lance grabs me by the arm and literally swings me to the wall. "Katie! I didn't know you had a boyfriend!"

Ah, but I _don't_. "Oh. I have a boyfriend."

"He's _twenty-five_!" Lance hisses in my face.

"Okay... and I'm twenty-two!"

"_Exactly_! Why aren't you with someone your _own_ age?"

"Lance, are you _ageist_?"

"Don't be ridiculus - "

"You're ageist!"

"Well, you shouldn't be dating someone who's three years_ older_ than yoruself - "

"I hope you remember that mum and dad are _five _years apart," I say dully, tapping my foot on the ground. "And Geraldine's two years younger than you - making her just a year older than me. So what's your point?"

"He's _my_ age!" Lance whispers, hitting me on the head.

"Don't hit me, I'm trying to recover!"

"Oh stop whining, Katie - "

"I _like_ Oliver. Do you have a problem with him?"

"No, except his age - "

"Oh fuck you, Lance. I'll go out with anyone I please, thanks."

"He's _twenty-five_ - "

"For your information, he's _younger_ than you!" I hiss back, flicking his nose.

Lance scrunches his face form the flick. "Don't be so childish - and how is he younger than me? He looks older than me!"

"Oh, he does _not_ look older than you. You're just saying that because you think you're ancient! Besides, he's a month and a half younger than you."

"What, is he born in March or something?"

"Yes!"

"Whatever, I just don't think he's the right one - "

"Oh please, Lance. He's been better than all the other guys I've dated - "

"I wouldn't call those dates. They're more like flings - "

"They were _not_ flings!"

"Anyway, are you sure about him?"

"Of course I'm sure about him! He's wonderful!"

Actually, I wouldn't know that, since we're not dating.

"Are you sure about _Geraldine_?" I demand, pointing a finger to his chest. "Are you? Because getting married is a_ huge_ step - "

"Of course I'm sure," Lance says, slapping my finger away. "Fine then! We'll see you at dinner friday."

"_Fine_!"

"_Fine_!... Well bye then!"

"Bye!"

He takes my hand and swings me back to the bed while walking out the room himself.

I love my brother. But I just don't know why's he's such an asscrack sometimes. And how on earth can he be ageist when his girlfriend's practically _my_ age! Exactly! I bet he's just jealous of Oliver!

Wel, screw you Lance, my boyfriend's better than your fiance -

Ah _right_. Oliver's not my boyfiend.

"So I'm your boyfriend," comes Oliver's voice, as he appears in front of my face with a wide smile. "And I'm invited to dinner."

"Dinner at the Bells' is pretty good," George says absent mindedly. "I went there a few times. Pretty good food. Almost as good as my mum's."

"So... are we really pretending that we're dating?" Oliver turns back to face me. "Or are we actually going to do something about it?"

"Well," I start, playing with my sheets. "I don't know... Are we even ready for that?"

"I'll tell you something," George mumbles, as Oliver and I turn to look at him. "Alicia's pissing me off!"

"How so?" I ask him, a bit relieved to be off the subject of me dating Oliver.

"Nasuada's not talking to me!"

"She's your friend, right?" Oliver asks me, his brow furrowing. I nod.

"She won't talk to me!" George repeats, throwing his hands into his hair. "Why won't she talk to me!"

"George, it's only been two days since you last saw her," I tell him. "I haven't talked to her in two days."

Which is untrue because she came yesterday during the morning.

But I won't mention that.

"I think she hates me!"

"Why would she hate you?" Oliver asks, turning to George. "She seemed pretty nice the two times I met her..."

"Because of _Alicia_!" George mutters, flinging himself down on a chair. "She just had to go and... trash it all..."

"Alicia met Nasuada? Wow I wonder how _that _went - "

"Oddly polite yet harsh," I answer, pushing the bowl of discarded soup away. "It doesn't seem as though Alicia and Nasuada will be getting along any time soon."

"I thought Nasuada has a boyfriend - "

"She does," replies George, his voice muffled by his hands on his face. "But it's not really working well - "

"So she's cheating on her boyfriend?"

"Technically not," I answer slowly, rubbing my arms. "I mean, you could _hardly_ call that guy a boyfriend since he's rarely at home to see her and all."

"So what's Alicia got to do with Nasuada besides hating her?" Oliver asks, brushing my feet off the side of my bed to sit down.

"You could've asked me to move my feet you know," I say, glaring at him. "Anyway, Alicia told her that she and George used to date, and I guess Nasuada got the message of _'jealous ex-girlfriend_' but I don't think she hates you, George - "

"She does! I know it. I just _know_ it."

"She doesn't! She really likes you!" I tell him, throwing him one of my most winning smiles.

He gives me a weird look. "Dude, are you trying to come onto me?"

"_No_! What the hell!"

"Why are you smiling at me like that?"

"I was trying to give a reassuring smile, idiot!"

"Okay then... don't... don't do it again." He shudders as I throw him my most winning glare. _That_ he's not phased by.

"You were hitting on him?" Oliver asks incredously. "I thought I was your boyfriend!"

I give him a disbelieving look. "I was trying to let him know that Nasuada likes him by giving him a friggin reassuring smile! And you're _not_ my boyfriend, you're my _pretend_ boyfriend with my parents."

"So you're saying we'll never be together."

"I'm not saying _anything_!"

"I'll talk to you later," he says, giving me a suspicious look. I match his look with a sneer. But then his face cracks into a grin. "Geez Katie. I was just kdiding."

"Okay, I don't mean to interrupt," George starts. "Actually, yeah I do. Back to _my_ problem!"

"So self-centered, George," I murmur, tugging my sheets and causing Oliver to fly a few inches of the bed.

"And not caring," George adds. "Okay, seriously. After this, I don't think she'll ever want to date me. She won't want to be my girlfriend anymore!"

"_I'll _tell you who won't be _my_ girlfriend," I hear Oliver mutter under his breath, but George is oblivious.

"You think she hates me?" he asks me weakly, looking crumpled in his chair.

"Of _course_ not, George, why on earth would she hate you?"

"Who's hating who?"

I watch as George automatically jumps out of the chair and brushes a hand over his messed up hair. "_Nasuada_! Hi!"

"Oh!... Hi."

I glance at Oliver, who's looking a bit nervous to me.

"Hello Nasuada. It's nice to see you again," Oliver offers through the silence.

Nasuada smiles tensely, as she say, "Same to you, Mr. Wood - "

"_Oliver_."

"Yes... nice to see you too... _Oliver_. And how are you doing, Katie?"

"Chipper!" I exclaim, my mouth curving into a hard smile.

"Good... good..." she trails off, but then looks at me brightly. "I brought you some soup!"

Soup. She just has to bring me _soup_.

"Great!" I manage to say, shoving the other bowl of soup out of view. "Thanks!"

I watch as she stiffly puts the bowl of soup to my bedside table and stands stiffly near me.

"My parents just came," I offer, trying to ease the tension.

Nasuada's eyes light up. "When!"

"Probably fifteen minutes ago, I suppose. Lance and his fiance were here too."

"Is she that really smart one?"

"Just _how_ smart is she?" Oliver asks, breaking into the conversation.

"Cancer research smart," I answer, my mood a bit put off by Geraldine.

"So what did they say?" Nasuada asks, trying not to look at George.

"Oh, they're getting married in June. Oh, and my parents invited Oliver for dinner," I add, rubbing the back on my head.

"_Really_?" she says, giving Oliver a look over.

"They think I'm her boyfriend," he says, smiling evenly at her.

"_Really_!" she repeats, now smiling devilishly at me. "And_ how_ did they get _that_ idea?"

"It's _her_ doing," Oliver says, pointing a finger at me.

"It was the only way to make my mom shut up," I grumble. "Besides, this way, she'll stop hounding on me to hurry up and find someone of husband material."

"So I'm husband material?" Oliver pipes up, his face glowing with pride.

"Oh, stop being so anal!"

"So you two are going out?" Nasuada shrieks, coming over and grabbing my hand. "After all those dumb guys you've been dating around with - "

"Could we all just please stop with my whole dating past?" I mutter, yanking my hand away. "And _no_, we are not going out."

"So who are all these men you've dated, Katie?" Oliver asks, his face innocent, but his eyes intrigued.

"None of your business," I tell him, not looking into his face.

"So who are all these men she's dated, Nasuada?" Oliver turns to her instead. I swear, if she tells him -

"Oh, well, you know... just some random guys."

"_Random guys_, you say?"

"I do _not_ just go and throw myself at random guys!" I cry, leaping out of bed again and walking up to her. "I date people I actually know."

"Some of them you barely knew, Katie."

"Ugh whatever."

"So are you still dating them?" Oliver gives me a searching look, which I avoid.

"Obviously not. Now I've just got to figure out a way to date you!"

"So we're dating."

"No, we're _not_!"

"But you just said - "

"Now is not the _time_ for this, Oliver!" I hear myself say agitatedly.

"So when _is_ the time?"

"I dunno. Later, perhaps."

"Cool."

The room once more becomes silent and tense. I watch George fumbling around with his shirt and hair, desperately trying to make conversation with Nasuada but bailing out once he opens his mouth. Nasuada, on the other hand, is glaring daggers at George. Oliver has once again taken over half my bed and offers me the other side.

Just as I sit down, I hear Nasuada's voice. "You know, you could've told me you still had a girlfriend!"

George's head turns up sharply. "What are you talking about?"

"_You_! Dating Alicia Spinnet! Why didn't you _say_ something?"

"Because I'm not - "

"If you'd told me, I wouldn't be getting myself into this... this - "

"This _what_?"

"_This_! This_ mess_ of a semi-relationship!"

"I'm _not_ going out with Alicia - "

"Oh _please_, George! Of course you are. Who wouldn't want to date Alicia Spinnet? She was probably the most popular girl of your year! And she's so pretty. Why on earth would you even want me? I should've known you'd be going out with her! You two were together during school - "

"But we're not!" George says, a look of anger growing in his eyes. "I haven't even been dating her for - "

"Don't _lie_ to me, George! I know you're dating her. Do you know how wrong it is to be cheating on your girlfriend?"

"Oh, that's rich!"

"I don't want to be the other woman, George! I'm not the type of person to intrude into someone else's relationship - "

"So what am _I _then?" George demands.

Nasuada quavers a bit. "What do you mean - "

"You know, for a former Ravenclaw, you're quite dense! You have a _boyfriend_, Nasuada. Sure, he might hardly be around, but he's still your boyfriend. You've made _me_ into the _other man_!"

"You're _not_ the other - "

"So I don't know why you're accusing _me_ of cheating, when _you're_ doing it right now! Technically, you've been leading me on! I haven't done anything wrong except like you!"

"But I do like you!"

"So break up with your bolyfriend!"

Nasuada pauses as she relieves a long and heavy sigh. "It's not that easy - "

"Breaking up is never easy," George says bitterly, now looking completely angry. "If you like me, then break up with him. Be with me."

I grip my blankets while I watch Nasuada backing away. Her hand is balled into a fist, resting on her temple. "I... I can't _deal_ with this right now."

"I'm not dating Alicia. And I haven't been since I've met you."

"I don't know."

"I _know_ you like me!" George cries hotly. "I know you do! I can see it. I can make you happy!"

"I don't know..."

"I like you, Nasuada. I really do. I want to be with you. I know you're unhappy in your current relationship. End it and I will make you happy."

"I don't know..."

"But you _do_!" George screams, walking up to her. Nasuada takes three steps back, but he follows. "You _do_ know! You just don't want to admit it. What are you afraid of? Are you scared of me? You don't have to be, because I like you, and I _wouldn't_ hurt you. I won't ignore you, and leave you alone for months! I'll fulfill you! I'd do anything for you!"

"_I don't know_!" Nasuada screams back. "Stop talking, George! I can't think right now! Okay? I just... I don't want to deal with this right now! I'm not ready!"

"You _are_ ready! You just don't want to admit that you like me! Why?"

"I... I'll talk to you later," she mumbles, stepping away from him. "I'm sorry my visit's so short, Katie. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye Oliver."

As she walks to the door, she says very faintly, "Bye George," and steps out of the room.

I am completely astonished.

My best friend, George Weasley, has _feelings_.

_He actually has feelings_!

He's not joking this time. He's actually serious. And he's never even been this serious while dating Alicia. And he's not even dating Nasuada yet. So this shows something. I think George is actually growing up! He really does like Nasuada.

I am speechless.

"You know, she's got no right, accusing me of cheating and all," George mutters, looking crestfallen.

"Don't worry, George," I tell him. "She likes you. She just doesn't know it yet."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that even thought she's a former Ravenclaw and super smart, she's too thick to get it."

"But she will?"

"Of course she will. Any day soon, she'll be ending things with Jack and all."

"Is he really that bad?" Oliver asks.

"Well, I wouldn't say he's a horrible person," I say, scratching my arm. "But it's just that... They clash."

"Meaning?"

"Personality-wise. He's quite ambitious. And it's power and wealth before everything else. She didn't listen to me at first. But she's realizing it now. So don't you worry, George. She'll come around."

"Hopefully," George mumbles dully. He looks out the window of my room, and a slow smile creeps into his face. "Who knew I was that emotional, eh?"

"You did scare me a bit there," I say, smiling warmly at him.

"You're doing it again!" he warns, his face twisitng oddly.

"Doing what?"

"That smile. _Stop it_!"

I narrow my eyes at him. "Can't I just give you a smile or something - "

"Yeah, but don't do it like _that_! Geez."

"You know, you've never given_ me_ that smile," Oliver adds, raising his eyebrows at me.

"Whatever," I say, rolling my eyes at him.

"So I guess I'll be leaving you two alone right now." George heaves a gigantic sigh and walks towards the door. "I'll be back. Bye."

"No need to sound so dead," I call after him as he shuts the door.

As soon as the door clicks, the room becomes silent.

It's a bit weird to be in a silent room with Oliver. I feel as if I could tell him everything, but can't, at the same time.

"So where shall I meet you on Friday?" Oliver pipes out, making me sigh in relief.

"My place, I suppose," I answer, shrugging at him.

"When?"

"I'd say five thirty."

"Great."

"Cool."

Well, isn't that enlightening?

"I hope your parents like me," he suddenly says quietly, playing with his fingers.

"Why?" I ask, not really paying much attention. "It doesn't really matter if they do or not - "

"Yes, it does."

I snap my head around to him. "Are you really concerned about them liking you?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because they're your parents. The person dating their daughter always has to make a good impression - "

"Oliver, we're _not_ dating - "

"I know we aren't, but they think so. And what if we actually do, in the future?"

"I don't know," I say uncomfortably, shifting around. "We haven't gotten that far yet..."

"Don't you wanna find out?"

"I think we should take things one step at a time. And the first step is... having dinner with my parents."

"You know," he comments, rubbing his chin, "having dinner with the parents is usually something a couple does after they've been out on a few dates."

"Okay, what's your point?"

"Well, according to your logic, we technically haven't been on a date."

"Okay, well, they think you're my boyfriend, so just play along - "

"But what if I don't want to play along?" He looks me right in the eye, making me quiver.

"Well," I answer slowly, taking my eyes off him, "it's a bit too late for that, since you've already agreed that you'd come."

I can feel him still staring at me, even though he's silent. Well, it's not my fault he agreed to it. And it's true, we _should_ take things one step at a time, right? I mean, considering what happened the first time... and I'm here in a fricken hospital... yes, I'm right. It's best that we take things one step at a time. And he should be agreeing with me. It's not healthy to rush into something.

"Would having dinner with your parents and acting as your boyfriend be considered a date?" he asks, breaking into my thoughts.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I _said_, would having dinner with your parnets and acting as your boyfriend be considered a date? I mean, we're having dinner with them. And they think we're a couple.Would it technically be called a date?"

I roll my eyes at him. "I don't know, Oliver. Call it whatever you like, but you're going to come or else they're going to interrogate me until my death about what happened to you. They seem to have taken a liking to you anyhow."

"_Great_!" he exclaims, his eyes lighting up. "Well then! I should be leaving you to rest! I have to go and buy some muggle clothing!"

"Oliver, you already have loads of muggle clothing. And my parents wouldn't care what you wear. As long as it's presentable."

"I know _that,_ but now I can get dressy muggle clothing!"

"It's not a formal dinner you know - "

"Okay Katie, I'd appreciate it if you'd stop raining on my parade," he glowers playfully at me.

"I'm just saying - "

"Well, say no more because I'm off to shop at the muggle clothing store!"

"Which one?" I ask out of interest. I wonder how many he's been to. And which one he likes.

"Oh, you know."

"Um... no, actually, I don't."

"_You know_!" he says impatiently, waving his hand around.

"_No_, I _don't_," I repeat, giving him an exasperated stare.

"You know that one called Carnie's?"

What the fuck? "What's _Carnie's_?"

"_You know_!"

"But I _don't_!"

"_Carnie's_!"

"Oliver, what the _fuck_ is _Carnie's_?"

"_Carnie's_!"

"Okay, look, I have _no idea_ - "

"You should know, Katie, considering you're muggle born and all!"

"But I don't know what Carnie's is!"

"Are you sure? They're this really big store that lots of women like to go to - "

"Women go to many stores, you know."

"It's one of those stores that sell expensive stuff - "

"Oh, you mean _Barney's_!" I say, rolling my eyes at him, "It's called _Barney's_."

He gives me a confused look. "What's Barneez?"

"Not Bar_neez_. _Barney's_."

"Barneez."

"No, say it like Barney's. Like it belongs to Barney."

"Who's Barney?"

I heave a sigh. "Nevermind, Oliver. This conversation's hurting my head."

"Okay, but who's Barney? Does he own Carnie's?"

"_No_, Oliver! There _is_ no Barney, and there's definitely no _Carnie_! The store is called _Barney's_!"

"Are you sure?" he questions, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Because I swear, it's called _Carnie's_ - "

"Trust me, Oliver. There's no such thing called Carnie's."

He still looks aty me suspiciiously., and says slowly, "Well... okay then... Anyway, I'll be off... shopping at Carnie's."

"_There is no Carnie's_!" I burst, my hands stretching my face. "_Barney's_! It's called _Barney's_!"

"Okay, look. Maybe _you_ shop with Barney or whoever, but I shop at_ Carnie's_ - "

"There is _no one_ called Barney, the store is named _Barney's_ - "

"Um, I'm just going to go before you get mad at me again," he mutters, rushing to the door. "I'll be at your house at five thirty on friday."

"You mean you're not coming back?" I ask, taking my hands off my face.

"Oh, no." He shakes his head furvently. "I was a few minutes late last time and I guess the Coach got pissed at me for all those times I've been late and gave me an extra day if penance."

"So I take it you shouldn't be late again."

"I was late this morning, actually. So he gave me another day."

"So you have two extra days of penance?"

"Well, no. I actually have an extra three."

"_Three_?"

"Yeah, I sort of said something vulgar to him."

"Since when do you say _vulgar_?"

"I don't, I was just repeating the Coach."

"I'm pretty surprised he didn't kick you off the team."

"Dont be stupid, Katie. He _needs_ me, you know."

"Don't be such a jackass, Oliver, he doesn't _need_ you."

"Yeah, he does," he replies loftily, opening the door. "Bye, Katie!"

"Bye Oliver," I say, shaking my head at him. I watch as he steps out the door, leaving me alone in a super white and empty hospital room.

With a boring bowl of chicken noodle soup to keep me company. Soup really sucks.

* * *

kay so like, i decided to update this thing one more time before the holidays were over. you know, just to give you guys something to enjoy for the rest of the month. i'm not sure when the next chapter is, considering the fact that i do have school, but hopefully by february. i'm making no promises though, since i tend to break those.

and i know i say this every time, but seriously, **i'd appreciate it if you guys reviewed**. i really want to know if you people still like this thing. i just want feedback; raves, rants, questions, flames, whatever. just _something_. i want to know if i'm still keeping your interests.


	20. Bonked

**a/n:** ok you guys! here's the latest installment

* * *

"Have you always been this twitchy, or have I just noticed it?"

"I'm not twitchy! Stop calling me twitchy!"

"I only said it _once_ - "

"Well, I'm not twitchy, I'm perfectly normal - "

"Okay, relax, don't have a heart attack. I was just concerned."

Concerned my ass. This is no good. I don't even know how I got into this situation. One day, I'm lying half paralyzed in a hospital bed, the next thing you know, my mom sets up a date for me. How _embarassing_ is that? To have your own mother set up a date for you. With Oliver Wood, who she only met like, _three seconds ago_.

"Katie, are you feeling okay?" he asks, a tinge of uncertainty in his voice. "We could just skip this dinner - "

"We aren't skipping anything!" I snap, shaking my head furiously.

"I was just under the impression that you didn't want to go - "

"No, we're going. Look, we're already half way to the house."

Of course I have to go. This is my parents we're talking about. And besides, if I don't show up, they'll only barge into my love life more.

"Then why do you seem so... uptight?" he asks another question, giving me a side-long stare. "I've never seen you so stitched up."

""Nothing, it doesn't matter."

"I'd like to know."

"It doesn't matter."

"Come on, just tell me - "

"_Fine_!" Good grief, this guy has been firing questions at me since we left my flat. I mean, how can a person ask so many questions? And he's a quidditch player, for Merlin's sake. Shouldn't he have had too many bludgers and quaffles hit him in the head to make him deluded? Apparently, not enough, since he can ask so many freakin questions.

"Well?"

My gosh.

"My parents don't like me as much as they like my brother," I tell him grudgingly. "He's the success, I'm the failure."

"Katie, you know that's not true," he starts, consolingly. "All parents love their children - well, most parents..."

"I know they love me. It's just that they don't appreciate me as much as they do my brother."

He raises an eye brow at me. "Like how?"

"They always complain about me. To my face."

"What do they say?" he asks, interestedly.

I give him a look. "I'm not sure if I want to say."

"Do you think I'm going to go behind your back and tell your parents? Geez, give me _some_ trust."

My eyes narrow at him, but I feel my mouth working anyway. "I'm not as smart."

"Everyone's talented in their own way - "

"I'm no rocket scientist."

"I still don't know what that means, no matter how many times you run it by me. But aside from that, you're very smart, Katie. George tells me you were voted as the - "

"The most likely to succeed," I mumble, shoving my hands in my pockets. And where am I now? "It doesn't mean anything."

"Of course it does. It means that the entire class had faith in you."

"So?"

"Everyone was behind you. Maybe it's you who didn't give yourself a chance."

That's not true.

Okay, well, maybe it is. But still.

"It won't be so bad," he assures me, suddenly capturing my shoulders in his arm. "I've met them. They're perfectly nice people..."

And just like that, my girl instincts kick in as my brain swamps with the feeling of his warm touch on my skin. Damn my feminine insincts! But truth be told, this is nice... having someone with a protective arm around me and all. Now that I think about it, I've never gotten that before.

"Perfectly nice people," I hear myself murmur, walking along steadily with him.

"Exactly."

"Exactly what?" I say, suddenly coming out of my semi-daze.

"That your family are perfectly nice people." He casts me a side long glance with a cocked eyebrow. "Which they are."

"Believe me, Oliver, you'll get to know them better. And then your idea of them will change."

I feel him taking his arm away from me, and the small breeze that curves around me. He pauses in his steps and looks carefully at me. "What's the _real_ reason why you seem to resent them so much?"

Oh you know... just because. Because they don't know how to communicate. Because they avoid as many problems as possible Because they always fight, but never speak directly of what they're fighting about. Because they're so incredibly uptight. Because they're afraid of anything out of normalcy.

Because they're afraid of_ me_.

"Katie? Did you hear me?"

Of course I heard you.

"Katie!" I feel a small shove on my head. "Can you hear me?"

I grunt while staggering a bit to the side. "Don't push me, Oliver."

"Just checking if you were still with me," he replies, a smile lurking around his lips.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

We're all gathered around my parents' dinner table. Geraldine's not here today, but Lance is. He's sitting right across from Oliver, who's placed beside my dad. My dad and mother are sitting at opposite ends of the table. But for some reason, there are three extra places set out. Which is odd... since neither Lance or I live with my parents.

"So exactly what is it that you do, Oliver?" Lance asks, leaning a bit forward to pursue a conversation with Oliver. I know how this is going to turn out. Although he's a nice person, my brother is quite the smug little boy. And a pretty big, but subtle snob. Just like his girlfriend - no, I mean _fiance_.

"I play quidditch," Oliver answers, smiling slgihtly and bobbing his head.

"Yes," Lance replies, his brow furrowing. "But what do you _do_?"

"What do you mean by that?" Oliver asks, confused.

"What is your _job_?"

"I'm a quidditch player!"

I watch as Lance gives Oliver an uncertain stare, and looks towards me. "I don't get it. What does he mean?"

"He's a quidditch player," I tell him, clearly annoyed.

"Could you explain?"

"I play quidditch. It's my job," Oliver answers, scratching his head. "I'm a professional quidditch player."

There's a slight silence as Lance raises both brows at Oliver. He stares around the table. "So, you _play_ for a _living_."

Before Oliver can answer, my dad joins in on the conversation. "There's nothing wrong with playing sports, Lance. _I_ used to do it."

"Dad, you played it during _school_," Lance says, rolling his eyes. "It wasn't your _job_. You're a professor now."

"Still nothing wrong with it," I hear my dad mutter, as he heaves a sigh and sits back in his chair.

There's an awkward silence around the four of us. I take a chance to look at Oliver, who's still looking confused, but a bit put out. My brother, on the otherhand, is looking - _what are the odds_ - smug. I bet he thinks he's so much better. But then again, he _is_ the biggest brain in the room. Well, actually... he's pretty dumb.

"What's gotten into you four?" At once, all heads strike up as my mother comes into view, bearing with her three plated balanced carefully in her arms. "Converse a little, won't you?"

"Yeah, okay," I murmur to myself.

"What's that, Katie?" my mother leers at me suspiciously. "I didn't quuite catch that."

"Nothing, nothing..."

"Well, okay," she replies, taking off her apron and tossing it into the kitch. "Hold, on just let me get everyone else."

As she walks out of the room, I ask my father, "What does she mean, _everyone else_?"

My dad gives me a look. "What do _you_ mean?"

"Who's everybody else, dad?" I ask, drumming my fingers in irritation.

"I swear we've told you already."

"_No,_ you didn't. You guys never tell me anything."

"No?" my dad gives me a confused look. I shake my head. "Oh... well then. Your grandpas are living with us."

"They are?"

"Yes, and your Uncle Del."

"_Uncle Del?_" I repeat, but am interrupted by my mother with my grandpas coming in.

Well, won't this be a hoot. I watch as both grandfathers take a seat beside Lance, who sort of stiffens up a bit.

The thing about my grandpas is that they're in love.

Yep.

My paternal grandfather, Pappy Herm, short for Herman, is my father's father. His wife, Grandma Nancy, died a while back, two years before Lance was born. And then out of the blue, Pappy Herm discovered his inner gay. He fell in love with a man his own age exactly, named Jim. Now, of course, it's Pappy Jim. And I guess my dad is a bit weirded off by this situation. Having all the whole time thinking his father was straight... and then Jim.

"_Katie_!" Pappy Herm and Jim exclaim at the same time. They both rush towards me and give me a kiss on both cheeks. I have no problem with this. In fact, personally, I think it's kinda sweet.

"Hi Pappy Herm, Pappy Jim."

"You've been eating right, have you?" Pappy Jim asks me, inspecting me. "You seem a bit thin."

"Now, who's _this_ fine fellow?" Pappy Herm asks, casting an eye at Oliver.

"Oh, this is Oli - "

"This is her _boyfreind_," my mother barges in, placing a hand adoringly on Oliver's shoulder. "Such a _handsome_ boy!"

"Well, what's your name, lad?" Pappy Herm asks Oliver.

"Oliver Wood, sir."

"He called me _sir_!" Pappy Herm exclaims, putting both hands on his hips. "Now, this one's a keeper!"

"How did you know?" Oliver asks, looking impressed. "Everyone always thinks I'm a Beater at first glance!"

"Oh! You're _magic_!" Pappy Jim says, nodding at Oliver. "So you're a Keeper, eh?"

"How do you not get hurt?" Pappy Herm asks.

"Are you ever afraid of the balls?"

"Do you ever get vertigo?"

"How do they know so much for muggles?" Oliver mutters to me.

"I told them I used to play quidditch," I answer.

My grandpas go back to their seats, still aiming questions at Oliver. While I leave Oliver to deal with them, I see my Uncle Del stalk into the room. He immediately catches me staring at him. His eyes grow wide, and a look of fear and madness overwhelms him.

"Why? Why, why?" he stutters, poining a finger at me and looking accusingly at my mothers. "_Why_!"

I don't like Uncle Del. Out of the entire family, he hates me most. He thinks I'm the devil's daughter, and the biggest walking demon on the face of the earth.

Oh yeah, he's also a depressed lunatic. Well, no, not a lunatic. Just to me, personally. Since he tried to kill me in my sleep once, three years ago.

Uncle Del is my mother's younger brother. He's tried to kill _himself_ several times. I'm not sure of the exact reason, but I think it's got something to do with his job and his estranged wife. I don't know why Uncle Del's so afraid of me. I mean, I've been nothing but nice to him, for all my life.

"Katie's just here for dinner, Del," my mother tells him soothingly, coaxing him down to take a seat beside Oliver. Oliver whips his head around and gives me an alarmed look. I don't blame him, since Uncle Del's sporting a dirty wife beater with ripped boxers, and the hair of a crazy.

My fathers makes an unapproving noise as he watches Del sit down. Del, on the otherhand, gives Oliver a wide stare.

"Who're you?" he asks slowly, turning to face Oliver.

"Oliver Wood, sir."

"Who _are_ you?"

"He's Katie's boyfriend," my brother tells him.

Instantly, Uncle Del jumps from his seat and pushes himself against the wall. "Another one! There's _another_ one!"

"Uncle Del - " I start, but he ignores me. I stand up and try to approach him, but he thrusts his hands forward.

"Get away from me! Get _away_ from me! Don't _touch_ me, you evil woman! Snake! _Don't_ let her touch me!"

I sigh, sinking back down into my seat. "Uncle Del, I'm just as normal as you are - " I stop myself mid-sentence until I realize that Del's not exactly normal. "Uncle Del, I'm not going to _hurt_ you - "

"Shut up!" he screeches. "_Shut up_! Get out of the house! _Get out_!"

My hands fly to my face as I make circle motions around my eyes. I peek at Oliver through my fingers, who's alarmed look has only turned into one of confusion. Pappy Herm is trying to soothe Uncle Del, but it doesn't work since Uncle Del's eyes are still glaring at me and Oliver.

"Why didn't you tell me he was here?" I demand, looking back and forth to my parents. "Why didn't you _tell_ me!"

Both my parents know I dislike Uncle Del. Of course, my mother doesn't agree with it, but my father doesn't comment.

"Katie, just calm down, okay?" my mother cries exasperatedly. "He's fine, he's completely fine - "

"You _know_ I can't get along with him!"

"Katie, calm down - "

"I can't calm down, this stupid man just cursed me and my boyfriend!"

"Katie, _calm down_!" comes the domineering voice of my father.

The room tenses up as all eyes fall on my father. "Vecita, sit down. Dad, leave Del alone. And Del, _nobody_ is going to attack you."

Pappy Herm and my mother instatly obey, but Del is glaring at my father. "I always hated you."

Which is true, since my father and uncle don't get along either.

My father chooses to ignore this comment. "Del, I'm asking you, please sit down - "

"_No_!" Uncle Del shrieks. Out of nowhere, he makes a grab for the knife set on his place and points it to Oliver. "I'll kill you!"

Silence traps the room, until Oliver says, "Why?"

Del's eyes narrow at Oliver, as his hand and the knife tremble. "_Because_!"

"Because what?"

"Because you're the devil!"

"Nope," Oliver replies simply.

"Shut_ up_!"

"Please stop pointing your knife at me. You're making everyone extremely uncomfortable."

Uncle Del's eyes grow wider. His arms winds back, ready to release the knife at Oliver, but he's not quick enough. Oliver whips out his wand and transfigures the knife into a daisy. Uncle Del drops the flower as if it's a branded torch, and screams incoherant words.

As Uncle Del throws a fit in the corner of the room, my mother rushes to over to him. My mother is quite the lovely soul, taking vare of her brother, and dealing with his depression. But she knows the way he acts around me. And my 'people'.

"I'm so sorry, Oliver," I tell him, patting his arm. "I didn't know Uncle Del would be here."

"You don't have to apologize." He smiles at me, despite having a knife pointed at him two minutes ago. "You're not the one tried to kill me."

The room grows silent as we watch my mother soothe Del. She manages to get his screams into quiet mutters, as he clutches onto my mother's arms. She speaks softly to him, until he's finally silent and even gives a smile.

As my mother makes her way towards the rest of us, leaving Del in the corner, she looks directly and me and Oliver. She doesn't need to say anything. I know. She gives me a sad smile, and shrugs.

"Thanks for inviting us anyway, mum," I say quietly, standing up. Oliver follows suit and murmurs his own thanks.

"I didn't think he'd react like this," she says, coming over towards us.

"Mother, don't kid yourself." My monotone makes her falter.

"Katie, _really_!"

"You _know_ how he's like," I say, as the three of us walk out to the hallway, followed by my father.

"Well, I thought with time he'd change - "

"Mum, your brother tried to kill me once, remember? And while I was _sleeping_."

"I don't want to discuss this right now."

"Figures," I grunt, as I shrug on my cloack.

"_Katie_..."

"Don't bother, mum. You're going to defend him, and I'm going to argue. What's the point."

She gives me an exasperated sigh, and decides to turn to Oliver. "Oh _Oliver_, dear, I'm very, _very_ sorry about tonight. I hope he didn't alarm you - "

"He _did_ get a knife pointed at him, you know," I say sarcastically over my shoulder. A look from my father tells me to shut up.

"I just want you to know," she continues, ignoring me, "that you are always welcome in our home."

Instead of making a sarcastic comment like my own, Oliver gives my mother a hug.

A _hug_. He gives the woman who's brother tried to murder him, a hug.

"Thank you, Mrs. Bell," he says, releasing my mother.

"Oh, you _are_ a sweet one," my mother gushes, as her face reddens from Oliver's touch.

"Good to see you, Oliver," my father says gruffly, walking over to us and holding out a hand. Oliver takes it, and replies, "You too, sir."

"Next time you invite us over," I say, stepping outside, "make sure he's not here."

With a look, my mother walks away with her eyes rolled at the top of her head. My dad shakes his own head, and gives me a kiss on the cheek.

"You take care," he says gently, standing at the doorway.

"Tell Pappy Herm and Jim I said bye. Oh, and Lance too."

"Will do," he nods, stepping away from the door. "Oliver?"

"Yes sir?"

"You take care of her."

"I will, sir. I will."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I guess I could say this restaurant makes me feel more at home than my parents' place.

Oliver had decided that since he was hungry, we were going to go out to eat. Which was what we were suppossed to do in the first place, until Uncle Del realized he had to liven up the party.

"You okay?" Oliver asks, as he peers at me. I've been silent since we left the house. I give him a quick nod and a smile. He gives me a suspicious stare. "You're not."

I shrug, lifting up my glass of water to my lips, then putting it down without drinking.

"What, having trouble deciding whether to drink or not?" he gives a feeble chuckle that dies quickly when I don't return a laugh. "Come on, Katie. I'm trying. I've been trying for the past hour."

I shake my head slightly, looking to a family to my right. A nice family of five, enjoying a simple meal together. A family without any disturbances, like crazy relatives. Just sitting there, embracing each other's company. The last time I remember my own family doing that is... when I was eleven, a few days before I received my letter to Hogwarts.

"You can't let people judge you because of something they think isn't right."

I glance at Oliver, who's staring intenly right back at me. For some reason, all I can remember is the feeling of his arm around me.

"Just because your uncle doesn't accept you for who you are, it doens't mean it's a bad thing," he continues. "You'll meet tons of people who'll think youre evil. Or who might think you're crazy. Or who'll think you're a liar. Everywhere you go, someone is going to hate you."

My concentration snaps back to Oliver who's giving me a rare heart-to-heart. He hasn't exactly given me one since Hogwarts, when I failed a Charms test. He just sat beside me by the lake, his fifteen year old form beside my twelve year old one. He sat with me for the longest time, until he finally was able to coax me into talking, since I hadn't talked for three days. Ten years later, here he is, giving me another one.

I don't even know why I remember this.

"You can't let those who hate you bring you down, Katie. But for those who hate you, there's a big ratio of those who love you. Your mother loves you. She's just torn between you and her brother."

"So she'd rather choose her brother than her daughter," I say dully, playing with my utensils.

"No," he replies simply. "She knows you can defend yourself. Her brother is helpless, therefore, she must help him. It's not a question of who she loves more. It's just that her brother needs her more than yolu do. And I think you know that too."

Sighing, I sit back against my chair.

"Katie, your family loves you. Sure, they might not always show it, but they do. I know they do."

"How?" I demand, sitting straghtly. "How are you so sure?"

"Well, they did ask us to leave the house - "

"Yeah, because telling me to get out is love," I say, rolling my eyes.

"They didn't want you to get a knife pointed at. They didn't want you to feel threatened. So they wanted you to avoid danger and leave. They look out for you, Katie. So you shouldn't be _that_ resentful to them."

I make a noise through my nose and avoid looking at him. My gaze goes back to the family on my right. They're laughing as if they've just been told the most hilarious joke in the world. I'm so jealous.

"Family is family," he suddenly says, with resolution. "You can't change your family. You're born into a set of people, and you will remain linked with them. So let it go, and smile some, yeah?"

He gives me the goofiest smile, and grudingly, I emit one back.

"_Ha_!" he cries triumphantly. He attracts a few stares from neighbouring tables, but he seems unaware of them. "See? You're smiling. I did that!"

For some reason, the smile on my face grows wider at his comment. "Whatever."

Deciding not to answer, he gives me a proud look, and sits back as the waiter brings us our food.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"You're okay now?" Oliver asks, as we walk back to my place. We're nearly there, as I can see my building.

"I'm fine," I murmur, bringing my cloak closer to my neck.

"Not upset about family are you?"

"Nope."

"You sure?"

"Yeah..."

"You know, Katie," he says, "family is family. They'll always be there. They'll piss you off to the end of the world, but they'll still be there."

"I know."

"If you made _me_ your family, I'll gaurantee to _always_ make you smile. Besides, you make _me_ smile anyway."

"Do I."

"Yeah, you called me your _boyfriend_ back at your parents'! That one brought out a pretty big smile!"

"Well, of course," I tell him, as we round the corner that leads to my building. "They think you're my boyfriend."

"Exactly. So we might as well just up the level a bit - "

"Oliver, we're not going out," I laugh.

"Your family thinks we are. And how are you going to break it to your mother if you said we weren't? I mean, she's practically in love with me. And so's your dad. And your grandparents."

I smile and shake my head as we approach the door leading into the building. I lift myself up on the step.

"I'll think about it," I tell him eventually. "Thanks for dinner, Oliver. And the talk. And for not freaking out about my family."

"Of course," he answers lightly. "And thank _you_, Katie, for this marvellous date."

"Oh _please_, Oliver. This night could have been anything but marvellous."

"Fine, it was outrageously superb."

I roll my eyes at him. "And I hope you know, it _wasn't_ a date."

"Why not?" he asks, looking at me from the ground. He's eye level with me when I stand on the step.

"Because all we did was go out to eat."

"Your parents think we're a couple. And couples date."

"It wasn't a date."

He doesn't answer, but stares at me with a cocky elevated eyebrow. And out of nowhere, he says, "_It is now_!" He grabs me by the shoulders and smoothly plants a kiss on my lips.

A very _nice_ kiss. And a very long one at that. And for some reason, all I'm thinking is how good this jerk is at kissing.

Like, _golly gee_, it's as if he's born to do it. Oh _my..._

As suddenly as he kisses me, he removes his mouth from mine and announces, "I've been waiting so long to bonk one on you! _Damn_!"

Without letting me have an input in the situation, he smirks at me, takes out his wand, and disapparates from the spot, leaving me to stand here, like a smiling idiot, on the step of my building.

* * *

**a/n:** and there it is, katie's finally been bonked.

i apologize for the lateness in updating. but i did say i would do so in february, and according to my calendar, it's still february. so there, i kept my promise. muahuahua.

i know this chapter isn't as long as some of the others, but i think i needed to get this one out. one of the reasons why katie's such an uptight bitch is because of her family. i'll dive into that in the next chapter, actually, which fully explains the stick in her ass.

so that means, it isn't over. no, this story is _not_ over. i'll tell you when it's over.

anyway, thanks for being so patient with me and the story. i can't thank you guys enough for sticking around and waiting for my updates. thanks thanks thanks so much for the reviews. let's shoot for more, kay?

read, review, and i'll be updating sometime between march and april.


	21. Technically Speaking with Logistics

**a/n:** ok people. chapter number the twenty-first. please do _not_ be discouraged to read it! i know it's pretty long, but honestly, i've worked three weeks solidon this! which explains the delay... but more on that later.

* * *

"So... How are you coping?"

"Eh..."

"At least give me _some_ insight."

"Okay then. How would you feel if you found out your boyfriend of over a year has been cheating on you for the past seven months and you had absolutely no fricken clue?"

"Not so hot."

"I thought so."

Technically speaking, I suppose this isn't too horrendous of a senario. I mean, if you ask for my honest opinion, I'm quite happy about Jack and Nasuada breaking things off. But I suppose the reason isn't really justified.

"But Nasuada, you didn't even _like_ him that much," I start, rubbing her back in slow circle motions.

We're currently sitting on her sofa in her flat. She lives in the suburbs, in some town I didn't even know existed until I became her friend. I know I shouldn't be jealous, but I can't help thinking about how much more money Nasuada makes than I do. It's petty to dwell on, but while shifting my gaze around her flat, it looks pretty fucking nice. For one thing, it's more spacious than my tiny square of a room. This thing is like a bachellorette pad. Seriously! She's got all the quirky decorations, one wall is fuscia, the other one screaming orange. It's completely original and clean. And her couch look quite expensive. I don't even know if I should be sitting on it.

"He was my _boyfriend_!" Nasuada blubbers, blowing on her hanky. "People you're in a relationship with are _supposed_ to be honest and trustworthy!"

It's not that I don't feel bad. It's not that I don't care either. I _do_. It's just that I don't really see why she's crying over him in the first place. I mean, he was a pretty big jerk to me. He wasn't too polite, always looked down on me, and in general, didn't favour me. Or the rest of her friends.

"Why would he sleep with her?" she cries, slamming her fragile figure on the couch. It's such a pretty couch, and yet she literally throws herself onto it. Yikes. "What was wrong with our sex life? I wasn't _incapable_ or anything!"

"Umm..." I murmur, shifting nervously. I don't mind sex. I really don't. But I _do_ mind people going on about their own sex lives to me.

"We did it quite often! Everytime he came back from his stupid job, he'd just pick me up and have me right here!" She motions to her couch with extreme bitterness in her voice. She doesn't notice me jumping out of my seat. "It wasn't bad. I've had orgasms every time, and I'm pretty sure he did too - "

"Oh my _god, _please shut up!" I quickly press my hands onto my ears and scrunch up my face. "I don't want to know about you two going at it!"

She chooses to ignore me on this. "I'm not a boring person in bed, you know. I do some new stuff. And he enjoyed it, since he had that weird smile on his face every time he got a good roll! I just don't understand why he'd choose to sleep with another skank! Wasn't I good enough for him?"

"Of _course_ you were!" I exclaim, standing up and giving her a hug. "You were a far better girlfriend than he was a boyfriend. He never cooked for you, sometimes treated you badly. He was constantly rude towards your friends. And besides, he was always away on business trips - "

"Or so he said," she mutters darkly. Her eyes flood once more with tears, as she honks on her hanky. "But what is wrong with me? What the fuck did I ever do wrong? I was always faithful. I was courteous! _I don't get it_!"

"First of all," I say, crossin my arms, "You shouldn't be blaming yourself. Clearly, he's the one that's got something wrong with him. Isn't he the one who went out to sleep with a slut?"

"Yes, but - "

"And wasn't _he_ the dumb one? So don't go accusing yourself for his wrongs, Nasuada. He throws you away like a rag, and still you put him on a higher pedestal."

"I do _not_!"

"He's not good for you!" I tell he, shaking her by the shoulders. "I've been trying to get that in your head since the time you started going out with him! And now look - he's used you, took control over you, slept with someone else behind your back, and now he's leaving you for that whore!"

"He didn't use me - "

"Didn't he?"

She remains silent for a moment, her face deep in thought. "When has he - "

"That time when he borrowed money from you!"

"When the heck was _that_?"

"When he owed those gamblers during the World Cup! And he never gave it back to you!"

"He was my _boyfriend_! What was mine was his - "

"Are you _kidding_ me?" I cry, slapping myself on the head. "Tell me you didn't just say that. Tell me."

"Well, I just thought..." she utters, shuffling her feet on the ground. "Oh never you mind with that! Can't we just wallow in my pity right now?"

"I refuse," I say resolutely, standing stiffly on the otherside of the room.

"You refuse?" she asks, her eyes narrowing at me. "I've been your friend for all these years and I've stuck by all your grief and now you refuse to stick with mine?"

"That's only because Jack Scotfield is a smarmy bastard and I don't think you should be wallowing in the name of a dickhead."

"_Fine_!" she screams, pulling a pillow on her face. She mumbles something, but the sound is blocked by the pillow.

"You know," I say loudly for her benefit, "my friend George Weasley _isn't _a jerk and all - "

"Don't you go talking about George at a time like this!" she says, scandalised. "I've just broken up with my boyfriend of two years only three hours ago, and now you're trying to talk up another guy!"

"Another guy that I know you're _completely_ smitten with," I say smugly, a sly smile playing on my face.

"I am _not _- "

"You're just in denial, pal. You've liked him since you first met him. Even when you were with Jack."

With that, she launches the pillow at me. "Are you trying to make me feel guitly?"

"Guilty of_ what_?" I ask, catching the pillow smoothly and throwing it back at her.

"You're making me feel bad! You're implying that I somehow was unfaithful to Jack by liking George - "

"Didn't the two of you go out for dinner a few times too?"

"As _friends_!" she cries, trying to convince me. Or more likely, herself.

"I wouldn't mind if you went out with George. He's such a sweetheart," I tell her brightly.

"He is, isn't he - _Hey_! Don't change the subject!"

"I wasn't. We were discussing George Weasley anyway. And I was just making a comment on him. Isn't he quite dashing too?"

"Stop it, Katie."

"Stop what?"

"Talking about George."

"Why, do you not like him?"

"Of course I like him - "

"Then why stop talking about him?"

"Because I'm still sad over my break up!" she yells, her hands instantly going to her head. "I can't deal with George when I've just been dumped!"

"What an unjustified breakup," I comment, stroking my chin.

She glares at me. "You're not much of a help."

"I can't help my sarcasm or bluntness."

"Can't you humour me a bit?"

"I am! Didn't you pick it up?"

"I meant cheer me up!" She rolls her eyes at me and slumps back on to the couch.

"You know who's really good at cheering people up?"

"Don't say George!"

"I wasn't going to!" I say, shaking my head at her, "I'm not that predictable. I was just going to say Alicia - "

"I don't want anything to do with that Alicia Spinnet!" Nasuada says venomously. "I do _not_ appreciate her. I can't stand her."

"Is it because she dated George?" I ask her in a serious tone.

"No!"

"Then why?"

"I just don't," she mutters, wrapping the blanket strewn across the couch onto herself. "I'm sad and pathetic right now. I feel worthless. Can you just be a friend and cry with me?"

"Yeah," I reply, softly, walking towards her. "As long as I don't have to sit on that couch."

"What's wrong with my couch?" she asks, her voice full of suspicion.

I fold my legs beneath me and sit on the floor in front of her. "I just don't want to sit on something where yours and Jack's naked body have been orgasming."

She remains quiet for a while. Her breathing comes out long and laboured. Eventually she speaks up. "Katie?"

"Yes Nasuada?"

"Thanks for being here."

"Don't thank me. I want to be here."

"And Katie?"

"Yes Nasuada?"

"I wouldn't want to sit on the floor."

"Why not?"

"We had sex right there too."

_Good motherfucking grief._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"What is the _matter_ with you?"

I hardly notice myself opening the door and letting Alicia into my flat. In fact, for the past week, I haven't noticed much. No, I've pretty much been flying in and out of some sort of daze.

"Are you even going to speak to me today?" Alicia says, snapping her fingers in my face. "You know, you haven't said anything for like, the three times I've seen you this week. All you've been doing is smiling at me. What's wrong with you?"

I'm just happy. Is it so bad to be happy? I should think not.

"Katie! Are you feeling okay?... Well, judging by that dumb smile, I'm guessing you are... but what the hell!"

Instead of answering her, I float back into my kitchen and fix her a drink of tea. I hope my smile isn't that creepy. I remember in the hospital when George said I looked funny.

"So anyway," Alica says, taking the drink I've just handed to her, "it's been like, almost two months solid that I've been without a boyfriend. I think I'm achieving something, you know? Putting out the statement that I don't need someone there to latch onto. I'm pretty independent!"

When I don't answer her back, she ploughs on as if she didn't pause. "I mean, I don't _need_ George. Of _course_ I don't. To be hoenst, I realized that I _never_ needed him. Sure, he was a great boyfriend, but it's true. I'm right, we just _don't click_. Shagging him was pretty much bitching awesome, but in reality, we just didn't work, you know? And let's be real, I think he's a _bit_ out of my lea - urgh! Katie, what the hell did you put in this, _salt_?" She sputters out the tea I had made for her and slams the cup down.

"What's wrong with you?" she asks me, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "You're never absent minded. You're the uptight one. Something happened. Tell me."

Well, it's safe to say she's very demanding.

"_Hengh_?" I grunt, staring at her blankly.

"What _happened_ to you? Really, you've been like this for a whole week. Angelina said so too!"

"Been like what?"

She starts to rub her arms uncomfortably. "I dunno... it's a bit weird though. Like you're there but not really. You're always smiling but we don't know what you're smiling about. It's like you're... oh, I don't know, maybe lovesick or something."

When I continue to smile, she suddenly comes to realization and shrieks, "You're_ lovesick_! _Katie Bell_ is _lovesick_? Lovesick!"

"Don't be silly," I say, but my heart really isn't into it. Instead, my smile grows even wider.

"It's Oliver, isn't it," she snickers, a smirk growing on her face.

"Why would you think it's Oliver?" I shoot back, raising my eyebrows, my concentration suddenly into the conversation

"Because!"

"Because _what_?"

"Come _on_, Katie. Everybody knows you've got this big crush on him."

"I do _not_!"

"Don't try to deny it. Besides, it's obvious to everyone that you get smitten everytime he talks to you. And what are you getting so worked up for? He's had this crush on you since _fifth year_."

"Excuse me?" I exclaim, completely caught off guard. "Okay, let's back up for a moment - "

"Now that I've _finally_ gotten your full attention," she says sarcastically.

I throw her a glare. "First of all, Alicia, I do _not_ have a big crush on Oliver - "

"No, you've got a major one."

"_Don't_ interrupt me!" I cry, my arms on my hips. "I don't have _any_ kind of crush on Oliver. So what if I'm smiling? Is it illegal for me to smile without a reason?"

"For _you_? Yeah," she says seriously, drumming her fingers on the table. "But to amuse me and go on with your speech."

I choose to ignore her irritating comment. "Oliver and I are perfectly good friends. _Friends_, Alicia, _friends_. I don't have a crush on him. And he's never had any kind of crush on me."

"He did," she says, her left brow rising. "Since fifth year."

"No, he didn't."

"Well, of course _you_ wouldn't know. You were too thick back in Hogwarts - "

"I was voted most like - "

"Most likely to succeed, I know," she finishes for me. "But I meant in the male department."

"I had boyfriends!" I cry, breathing harshly out of my nose. "Doesn't that count for _anything_?"

"Not when all you did was sit by the lake and share crackers."

"We did more than that!"

"No you didn't. I was watching you."

"You mean you were stalking me," I snap, a weird noise errupting from the back of my throat. "I didn't think of you as the stalker type - "

"If you're going to go blaming people, don't blame it on me fully." She crosses her arms and gives me a severe look. "You can also blame Angelina. She was pretty nosy. And Fred, who was just annoyingly curious. Lee was always there with his tarantula in case they did something to you. George was always in on the watching, since he was a bit protective of you. And because he wanted to try out new hexes. Harry was sometimes forced into it after practice to make sure that guy on the Hufflepuff team didn't sabotage the Gryffindor plays."

I suck my teeth as a small anger boils inside me. "Why were you all stalking me!"

"Because we all knew those guys you 'dated' were bad for you. And Oliver was always there too you know."

"_What are the odds_," I say sarcastically. "I bet he was furious that I dated people from opposing teams."

"Yes, that, and because he had a crush on you. Actually, I think he's had one on you since he saw you in line during your first year lining up for the sorting hat."

"How would _you_ know?" I roll my eyes at her, playing with my fingers.

"Because I was watching _him_ watching _you_."

"You people sure like to watch others, don't you."

"I was watching him because he was qutie popular and I knew him," she tells me, rolling her own eyes at me. "And because, for some reason, he seemed captivated by you. He kept pointing to his friends at you anyway."

"He was probably laughing at me - "

"_No_, he wasn't. Anyway, that guy has liked you for the longest time. He deserves a break."

"How would you even _know_ he likes me? Or that he liked me back in school? He never did _anything_ to betray his feelings for me as a friend, I hope you know."

"Well, not to your _face_!" she cries, shaking her head at me. "And I know. He was always watching out for you in school, and not just during quidditch. He'd always acknowledge you in the halls or in the common room - "

"Why wouldn't he - "

"He would sometimes come up to you and make small talk. During practices, he'd always glance back at you. During meal times, he'd always sneak looks at you down the table. I caught him staring at you, oblivious of his surroundings in the library like some sick puppy."

"Oh _please_, Alicia - "

"Remember that time when you had a a broken arm because Fred accidentally wacked you with his bat during practice? Who went completely livid on Fred? _Oliver_! You probably didn't notice since you were in immense pain, but he screamed himself silly at Fred, until he lost his voice. He'd never screamed at anyone until his voice was gone when Angelina broke _her_ ankle due to Cho Chang's bumping during the match. And didn't he take you up to the Hospital Wing _himself_? Exactly."

"Okay, if you're so smart, then tell me this." I bite my lower lip and look at her seriously. "He's a big megastar in the quidditch world. He can get any girl he wants. He's known for his arrogance, and his god-like looks. He's dated some of the biggest witches, including a Weird Sister who was older than him. He went out with Celestina Warbeck's daughter. He's been rumoured to been with Liesl Von Hatten, the inventor of the Firebolt broom. Why the hell would he want _me_?"

"Why _wouldn't_ he?"

"But why _would_ he? I'm nothing special. I'm just a... just some sort of ordinary nothing. I'm an _ordinary nothing_. I live in a cramped flat that's got owl droppings all over."

"Katie, don't under-estimate yourself - "

"I have a low-key job at the Ministry of Magic where three quarters of the people don't even know of my existence - and this is just on my floor only!"

"_Honestly_ - "

"My looks are average. My height is average. My hair's this boring brown, and my face looks dull."

"No, it _doesn't_. Only when you're not smiling - "

"I'm not rich. I will _never_ be rich. I have no titles. I have no authority. I'm just another face in the crowd. Why would he like me, after all he's had? He dated a fucking _Weird Sister_, for Merlin's sake. Her _left breast_ is probably worth a billion times more than _I _am!"

"Now _that's _ridiculous - "

"No, Alicia. It's not. It's _not_ ridiculous when somebody like Oliver Wood _wouldn't_ want somebody with nothing extraordinary like me."

"So what you're saying is that you're not good enough for him." She doesn't ask it, but she just states it. She gives me a look where her nostrils are flared.

"Basically," I murmur. I don't want to look at her.

"Okay, you're just being stupid now," she tells me, shaking her head at me. "Why would you think that?"

"Um, I think I just told you," I say, rolling my eyes.

"You _are_ good enough for him, Don't you _ever_ say you're not good enough for him. And you're _not _a nothing special girl, Katie. You _are_ special!"

"No, I'm not - "

"No, you listen to me, Katie. I'm so sick of your self pity. Grow the fuck up, and give yourself some credit! You_ aren't_ worthless. You _aren't_ not up to Oliver's standards. You are his _equal._ Who _cares_ if he's world fucking famous! Who _cares _if he's so irritatingly rich! To us, he will _always_ be Oliver Wood, former captain of our quidditch team. He will _always_ be the boy who can't stand pickles. He will _always_ be the boy who failed his Ancient Runes OWL because he didn't want to miss breakfast. He's going to always _be_ Oliver Wood, the guy with the funny singing voice. If I can see past his fame and fortune, I'm pretty sure you can too. And do you think he honestly measures you up to him?"

"Yes?" I say meekly, shrinking lower into my seat. How pathetic.

"He _doesnt_! He doesn't care either. To him, the fame and money are just bonuses. He doesn't care if he isn't famous. He doesn't care about money, it's just a luxury. Half the time you see him, he's just dressed as shabby as we are. He hates caviar. And he's broken up with all those celebrity girlfriends he's ever had. But he keeps falling back to _you_. Because he _likes_ you. He sees something in you that he can't find in any other girl. To him, _you're_ the superstar, not the other way around. _You're_ the shiny metal compared to Celestina Warbeck's daughter, who's the dull mineral. I know that's a bad metaphor, but don't you understand? He _likes_ you! He likes you for _you_, all your faults and flaws. Not for your status or your income. That man is _completely_ crushed on you."

"I think the more important question," Alicia says, after a moment of silence, "is whether or not _you _like _him_."

Now that's a silly question. I like Oliver perfectly well. I mean, why wouldn't I? Sure, since we started talking again, we've had about a million fights. Sure he pisses me off to the moon. Yes, he does get cheeky and arrogant. But of course I like Oliver. Despite his own flaws, I think we're pretty good friends.

Just friends...

"Katie, did you hear me?" Alicia asks, a slight irritation to her voice. "Do you like Oliver?"

"Yes, he's an excellent friend."

"Not in the friendly term," she cries, slapping me on the head. "What I mean is whether or not you see yourself in the future, in a relationship with him."

"Oh."

"Do you?"

"Alicia, don't ask me this - "

"Well, you've been bouncing around the topic for nearly a year now. Shouldn't you know by now?"

I sigh. "I don't know..."

"He likes you. It's all set out for you. He's played all his cards. It's your move next. What are you going to do?"

"Call it quits?" I flinch as my shouldrs tighten in a knot.

I don't know if I like Oliver like that. I know I've had that goofy smile plastered on my face for practically three weeks, which was the last time I saw him since he kissed me. But I don't_ know_!

"Honestly," I continue, cutting off Alicia before she gets a chance to speak. "I can see myself in a relationship with him in the future. But on the other hand, I can't either. I don't know if I'd be happy being with him. I don't know if I can stand all the tabloid rumours that follow him constantly. I don't do well under pressure, everybody who knows me knows that. But then again, if I don't end up with him, I'm not sure if I'll be happy with the other person."

"You're too complicated, kid."

"I know." I offer a small smile which she returns. "I can't decide right now. Besides, Oliver's not even here. He's hardly ever around when I feel like talking to him. He's always got his quidditch. I don't want a one-sided relationship. It's going to blow, just like Nasuada - "

"Nasuada's relationship is off?" Alicia slices through, her eyes suddenly becoming slits. "The one with her boyfriend?"

Oh shit. "Um... yeah, but don't tell anyone, I wasn't suppossed to say anything - "

"So you're saying she's single?"

"Well, she must be, if she's no longer in a relationship - "

"She likes George, doesnt she?"

"Actually, I'm not sure on that one - "

"She's going to get him, isn't she. She's going to sink her claws into his flesh and take him from me - "

"Alicia, you two have been broken up for a long time."

"It doesnt' matter, she's going to take - "

"Alicia, it's _over_!" I take her hand in my own. "It's over. You just said it yourself when you came in here."

"So I suppose you were paying _some_ bit of attention."

"Yes. And you and George are history. You said so yourself. Why dwell on him, when you've been doing so good for the past month?"

"Because I'm in love with him."

I pause midway from a sentence. Did she just say she loves him? Alicia Spinnet loves George Weasley? Now how the hell did _that_ happen?

"Alicia, are you _serious_?" I ask her, my brows risen in surprise. "Seriously. Think about this, seriously."

"But I do," she asnwers quickly, sadness washing over her pretty features. "I really do."

Something's not right in this picture. "Alicia, have you ever been unfaithful to George?"

"What do you mean?" she asks, her eyes thinner than parchment.

"During the times you've been with him. Or any other guy. Everyone you've been in a relationship with. Have you been completely faithful?"

"Of _course_ I have!" she exclaims, wrenching her hand out of my grasp."What kind of question is that?"

"I'm just wondering, because every relationship you've been in has never worked out. Honestly, Alicia. If you really love George, you wouldn't be the one breaking things up. Tell me why."

"I _do_ love George. And I _was_ faithful." She looks away from me, but I catch something in her voice and her eyes.

"Tell me," I urge gently, recapturing her hand. This time, she does not shy away. In fact, her hand seems limp in mine.

"You can't judge me," she says, her mouth hardly moving, and her voice becoming soft. "I know you're sometimes really judgemental, but don't judge me on this one."

Ouch to me. I am not _that _judgemental. But that's not the problem. Besides, I'd really like to know.

"I wont."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

"You _swear_?"

"Hand on heart."

"Don't you tell anyone either."

"I wont." I squeeze her hand lightly to prove my promise.

As she turns her head slowly to me, I can see the guilt over-coming her face. Her eyes look pleading. Her mouth is trembling. Her hand is slightly shaking. "Nine months ago, I met this guy."

When I don't reply to this, she goes on, though her voice is slightly unsteady. "He works with the partner company of my own. And we were placed together for a project to market this new product and all. And since we were working in such conditions, I guess we grew close. We spent all of our work hours together for two months solid. And you know how things sometimes get. One thing leads to another, and you develop feelings."

"You liked him?"

"Yes. But I didn't think it would turn out to be anything."

"But?"

"Things happen."

"What _kind _of things?"

"We were both seeing other people at the time. Remember Colin Ashby? I was seeing him at the time. He had a girlfriend too."

"What are you trying to say?"

She rolls her eyes at me. "What do you _think_ I'm trying to say?"

"I don't know! That you kissed him?"

"Sure we did some of that."

"You mean you did _more_?" I ask, compeltely baffled. I just assumed she went making out with other people!

"_Obviously_. We slept together. We did stuff on the side, you know. I wanted something more to develop with him, so I broke things off with all of my boyfriends. But he kept insisting he had to stay with his own girlfriend. But he's broken up with her now. Yet for some reason, I don't want him anymore."

"How long were you two having this affair?"

"I wouldn't call it an affair," she says, shfiting uncomfrotably in her seat and clutching the table with her free hand. "It was more of a _fling_ - "

"Trust me, I know what a fling is. Sleeping with someone else while you have significant others is _not_ a fling. It's an affair."

"Oh, stop being so technical, Katie."

"My apologies."

"It was going on for seven monthsd, okay? But it's over now."

Seven months. I guess it's not too bad, right? I mean, at least it's not a _year_ or anything. I know people who've had affairs for over a year, but I guess seven months can't be _so_ bad. You're not in _too _deep emotionally with the other person. Then again, she did cheat on her boyfriends. And _George_! Oh, how heart broken he'll be if he ever finds out. She was cheating on him all through their four month relation ship and all. I don't know if I could call her a bad person or anything, since her heart wasn't entirely in any of her relationships anyway -

Wait a second. Did she just say _seven_ months? Seven _months_? _Seven months_!

"How long did you say you were sleeping with him?" I ask, making my voice compeltely calm.

"Seven months," she sighs, raking her hand through her hair.

Seven months. That's exactly how long Jack was cheating on Nasuada for. Seven months.

Surely not. It can't be Alicia. I mean, really. What are the odds of that even happening? But then... Jack does work for this big company and he is in the marketing field... No. It can't be. Of _course_ it can't be. How could it even be? It's impossible. Alicia didn't cheat with Jack, who was formerly Nasuada's boyfriend. I know the seven months thing is such a coincidence, but come on.

Unless...

No. It can't be.

But I have to know.

"Do you know his name?" I ask her, my grip tightening on her hand.

She gives me a weird look. "Of course I know his name. Why wouldn't I, when we worked together?"

"Could you possibly tell me his name?"

"It's Jack. Why do you want to know?"

Okay. So maybe it _is_ Jack. Or maybe it's another Jack. Aren't there about a million Jacks out there in the world anyway? Even though I only know one, I'm sure it's quite the common name and all...

"I don't mean to pry, but can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she replies, not really paying me much attention.

"Is Jack around... say, I don't know, twenty-four?"

"Yes! _Exactly_ twenty-four."

"Is he really tall, around six foot three?"

"Yeah, that's pretty accurate - "

"With dirty blonde hair?"

"Yes, how would you know - "

"And a low voice, with a chin dimple, a scar on his right palm, and an Irish accent?"

She gives me a suspicious stare. "How would _you_ know?" she asks me slowly.

"Because that was _Nasuada's_ boyfriend!" I cry, dropping her hand like an iron. "You cheated with Nasuada's_ boyfriend_! You're the one he slept with for seven months behind her back!"

"Katie, I'm sure he wasn't _Nasuada's _boyfriend - "

"His name is Jack, he's twenty-four, six foot three, Irish, with blonde hair, a low voice, and a scar on his palm! That's _exactly_ Jack!"

She stares at me with bulging eyes and a white face. "It's _can't_ be Nasuada's boyfriend..."

"_Ex-_boyfriend now. Thanks to you. She's single, crying her eyes out, and feeling worthless because of you."

"Well, _that's_ not very fair!" she says, her eyebrows snapping into a v.

"Alicia, _you_ are the reason why Jack has broken up with Nasuada!"

"In my defense, he wasn't even into her that much!" she cries, her voice rising significatnly. "He said he didn't like her that much, and that I was the better lover! And you can't blame it _all_ on me, since it takes _two_!"

"Alicia - "

"Besides, she liked George anyway, while he was with me."

"She met Geoge after your break up, actually."

She doesn't seem to be able to find words for this. Instead, she grabs her purse and walks towards the door. "I can't deal with you right now, Katie. I don't know what to think. I didn't know Jack was seeing your precious Nasuada. And to be honest, I _don't_ feel so bad. It's not like they liked each other much anyway. He liked me."

"You're not in love with George, are you?" I ask her, following her to my door.

She turns the knob of the door and steps out. "Even if I were, I doubt that you'd believe me."

"What if I do?"

"Then I'd say you're bullshitting me."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"But you cheat on him, break up with him, all for another guy because of sex?"

She chooses not to answer me. Instead, she musters up an icy glare and slams the door.

I can hear her kitten heels clicking away down the hall.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Parents can get annoying. We all know that. We know how stupid they can be, how misunderstasnding, how pushy, and how stubborn they are. Especially mothers. Mothers are the _worst_. They won't have any of your 'nonsense'; always have favourites amongst their kids, will never take your side, and is constantly trying to change your life 'for the better'.

At the moment, my own mother is being a crucial banshee.

"You have got to talk some sense into that brother of yours."

No, I do not. Kay thanks, bye.

"He is just being thick. Nobody in their right mind would be _such_ an idiot."

Did she just call my brother an idiot? Lance, my _brother_, is an _idiot_?

"I don't understand him! I'm always trying to get him to talk to me, but he is always pushing me away! Why, _why_?"

And there goes her mothering instincts, along with the favouritism she puts towards my brother. Fortunately, I myself get none of it, because I'm the family witch.

"Katie Justice, are you even listening to me?"

"Yes, mother."

"Then?"

Then what? I do not comprend.

"Sorry, what?" I say, blinking hard at her. I don't know why I'm here, but I am. In a fancy muggle restaurant with both my parents in front of me.

"Has he said anything to you?" Mother gives me a desperate look, anguish controlling her wrinkles. "Has he explained himself? Why would he suddenly drop this all on us? Afterall, he was so much in love with her!"

Oh yeah, I might've forgotten to mention. My brother broke up with Geraldine.

To say the least, I am _quite_ pleased.

It's not a bad thing, is it? Because I don't think so. She was totally a snob anyway. But so's he.

"Mum, so what if he's broken up with her?" I tell her, patting her hand across the table. "It's not like it's the end of the world or anything. Honestly mum, do you see _Lance_ complaning? He's hardly even _moved _by it!"

"Of _course_ he isn't! Your brother is a closed book! He's too _man _to show his feelings!"

Too _man_ to show his feelings. Can you believe that entire sentence just came out of the woman's mouth? I know_ I_ can't.

"Maybe he's just having a mid-life crisis," my dad jokes. His words are muffled by the bread in his mouth.

"Oh, don't be _ridiculous_, Poalo, that's not it!" my mother snaps, shaking her head furiously. "She was perfect! Absolutely _perfect_! What is _wrong_ with him?"

"Maybe he just fell out of love with her," dad replies, more to himself.

"Now that is just the most _stupid_ answer I have ever heard!"

"Stupid, but it might be true."

"Katie, what about you?"

I give my mother a look of terror. "What _about _me?"

"Are you still seeing Oliver?" She gives me the most saddest look I have ever seen her muster. Who knew my mother actually cared about me. Or maybe it's just Oliver she cares about.

"Mum, you invited him over here for lunch," I say, rolling my eyes at her. "What do _you_ think?"

"Well, he hasn't showed up yet!"

"He has _work_!"

"Wonderful job he has, doesn't he?" my dad murmurs, his eyes suddenly filled with reminisce. "If I had taken up on that football scholarship - "

"It's too late for regrets now, Paolo," my mother tells him in a sarcastic tone. "Katie! Where _is_ he?"

"How should _I_ know?"

"He _is_ your boyfriend, after all."

No, he isn't. But let's not reveal that right now, kay? "Mother, please, just stop yelling in the restaurant and wait patiently - "

"For what?"

All three of us abruptly stop in mid-sentence as Oliver approaches us, looking quite pumped. Which I find it incredibly odd, since he's just had quidditch practice. But then it could be one of those natural adrenaline highs that I've heard my brother talking about. Still, it's weird.

And really hot.

No, it's _not_ hot. Just because he's gotten into his seat beside you, dressed in muggle attire and looking extremely handsome, it doesn't mean he's hot. Not at _all_.

That's because he doesn't look hot. He just looks sexy.

_Stop_ it.

Look at him, refilling everybody's tea and filling his own cup. What a gentleman. How extremely sexy.

_Stop it_!

Screw it, this stupid man looks so incredibly fucking sexy.

"Katie?"

"_What_!" I say, a bit too loud. Half the restaurant looks over at our table as my face goes crimson. "Sorry, what?"

"I was just asking how you were," Oliver says, one brow rising. "Are you okay?"

He's completely focused on me. How the hell am I suppossed to answer when his hotness is radiating off him and seeping into my every pore? Actually, how the _hell_ did this even _happen_? You know, I wasn't like this a month ago. Just because I haven't seen the guy in an entire month, it doesn't mean I have to go all hormonal on him. I mean, all he did was kiss me. What does that _mean _anyway? Exactly. I shouldn't be going all red everywhere. So just stop it, Katie.

"_Fine_!" I exclaim, picking up my cup of tea. He watches me drain the entire of its contents in one go. "What? I'm fine, Oliver. Just _fine_, yourself?"

"Yes, Oliver, how _are_ you?" My mother loads his plate with three bread rolls. "I hope your team isn't working you _too_ hard."

"Well, practice makes perfect," he replies, smiling sweetly at her. "Besides, all the working out benefits my health... and appearance." He flashes her a wink.

"Oh, you are just the most _adorable_ thing!" she gushes, her lovely cheeks pinking up.

"What can I say, Mrs. Bell, you've charmed me into an adorable guy."

Good grief. Is it just me, or is he flirting with my mother and not _me_?

Not that I care or anything.

I _don't_.

There's a slight pause amongst the four of us until my mother abruptly speaks up. "Maybe you could feed him a potion or something - "

"_No_," I tell her, agitated by her suggestion. "I _refuse_ to potion my brother."

"What's wrong with your brother?" Oliver asks me, chewing on his bread. "I always assumed he was all proper."

"He's broken off his engagement to Geraldine!" mother cries, throwing her hands on her face. "How _could_ he? She was absolutely _perfect_!"

"Isn't she that really smart one - "

"Yes." I roll my eyes at Oliver's question. Why is it that every time someone says 'Geraldine', the other person always asks if she's 'that really smart one'? Geez. She's not _that_ smart. Honestly.

"Why'd he do it?" Oliver asks to no one inparticular. Not that he's really paying attention. In my opinion, I don't think he gives a rat's ass about Lance.

"Maybe he fell out of love," my dad says, forking up his salad.

He is immediately slapped on the arm by my mpther. "Don't say that, Paolo! It's not true - don't listen to him, Oliver. It's not true. Lance is just going through a mid-life crisis - "

"Isn't he only twenty-five?" Oliver's brows are furrowed.

"How did you know how old Lance is?"

"They're the same age, mother," I say tonelessly, patting my father's hand. "So technically, at twenty-five, it's _not_ mid-life."

"Fine then!" my mother huffs, her cheeks turning red. "Then he's having an _identity_-crisis."

I give her a look. "Okay, mum. _What _the hell..."

"Or maybe there's nothing wrong with our son. Maybe he really _did_ fall out of love with her. Or maybe, he never really _was_ in love with her, and he was just trying to make _us_ happy." My father's words ring amongst the four of us gravely. I always knew that out of my parents, my father's the wise one, and my mother's the... dramatic one.

How stereotypical of my parents.

"Of_ course_ he was in love with her," my mother says, shaking her head at her husband. "Don't be silly - "

"Stop telling me I'm silly!" my father accuses, a look of high annoyance on hsi face. "Stop _patronizing_ me! It's like you don't even hear me - oh wait, of course you don't. You're always jabbing that mouth of yours everywhere."

Another silences goes true at our table as my father's face hardens. My mother, on the other hand, looks quite embarassed, and avoids eye contact with anyone. But Oliver doesn't seem to mind. In fact, it's as if he's immune to my parents' behaviour. There he goes, downing that soup of his.

"All I'm saying is that he's having a crisis - " my mother starts again, but dad interrupts her.

"And all _I'm_ saying is that he's _not_ having a crisis, but just wants to get out of something he doesn't really want. Hear me out, Vecita. For once, just hear me out."

"I think Mr. Bell has a point," Oliver speaks up, swalling the rest of his bread. I watch in half disgust at the ginormous lump going down his throat. But for some reason, it's still so hot. "Maybe your son really _isn't_ in love with her. Maybe he just wanted to impress the both of you, and now he's just figured out that he can't do it. Or maybe something happened in their relationship. Maybe he fell in love with someone else. Or maybe she cheated on him. Who knows."

"What a _bitch_!" my mother exclaims. Oliver quickly jumps out of his seat looking scandalized. I freeze midway to grabbing a bun. My father doesn't seem to notice the sudden outbreak. How strange. My mother _never_ swears. And here I though she liked Oliver and all, and she calls him a bitch just for speaking up about his own opinion - "

"Did I give you a fright, dear?' my mother asks Oliver, her face going pink. "I'm terribly sorry. But I never thought of Geraldine cheating on my little boy... Come to think of - "

"I'm pretty sure she didn't, mum," I tell her, making a grab for the bun.

"Why do you think so?"

My mother. Honestly. "Mum, have you ever seen Lance? Okay, I know Geraldine's practically perfect and shit - "

"Don't swear, Katie - "

"Don't be such a hypocrite, mother," I bite back. I can feel Oliver shaking with silent giggles. My father is hiding his smile behind his spoon. "Anyway, she's perfect, but so is Lance. Don't call me gross or anything, but my brother is quite... good looking. And he's smart, and tall. Why would she want to jeopardize a relationship with her twin?"

"Maybe that's why they've broken up!" Oliver snaps his fingers at me, a face a triumph. "Maybe they're sick of each other because they're so _alike_! I mean, if _I_ married myself, I'd want to commit suicide."

"Nonsense! Paolo and I are very alike," my mother says to him. "It's impossible - "

"We're not _that_ alike, dear," my father murmurs, but his comment goes unheard.

"I just don't believe your logic, Oliver."

Oh, did she just say that? I quickly glance at Oliver, who seems to be fine.

"I respect that, Mrs. Bell. But that's just what_ I_ think. Besides, everyone says opposites attract. I mean, weren't you and Mr. Bell on one level, completely at differences?"

"Yes, well - " my mother flusters, giving my fahter a bashful grin. "Of course, and I'm sure Lance and Geraldine - "

"Mother, are you _kidding_ me?" I scoff, choking on a piece of ham. Oliver gives me a quick whack on the back. Immediately, I hunch over the table. How I hate his strength sometimes. ..

"Are you okay?" he asks, looking alarmed. "Sorry - I forgot how weak you are - "

"I'm fine!" I exclaim, gulping down water. "And I'm not _that _weak." I turn back to my mother who's looking at me expectantly. "Lance and Geraldine are _completely_ alike. They both like the same cereal, have the same favourite colour, walk in the same foot patterns, have the same routines in life, and are both scientists of some sort. Really, they even _look_ alike!"

"It's true," says my father, patting my mothers shoulder. "Don't worry, Vecita. He'll tell us one day."

My mother gives a snort. "Unlikely. He hasn't told us anything since he was thriteen. All he does is tell his sister." My mother looks sulkily at her plate, until something snaps. "His_ sister_!"

I give her a suspicious glare. "What _about_ his sister?"

"I think your mother's asking you to find out what the situation is with your borther and his fiance," Oliver comments, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

No shit, Sherlock. "Leave him alone, mum. He'll come out of the cloest when he wants to."

"Your brother is_ gay_?" she shrieks, clutching dad's hand in terror. "Oh, Katie, please tell me he's _not gay_ - "

"_What_ - I didn't even _mean _it like that!"

"Mrs. Bell, do you have a problem with gay people?" Oliver questions, completely serious.

"N-no," my mother stutters, completely taken aback by the remark.

"Because they're completely normal, just like us. Or maybe they're even _more_ normal, because unlike us, they're not kidding themselves."

Is it wrong to want to laugh at that last bit?

"I have nothing against homosexual beings," my mother replies stiffly. "I just don't want my son to be gay."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not how nature works!"

"Good grief..." my father sighs, rubbing his temples together. "There's nothing wrong with gays, Vecita. If our son is gay, then we'll _let _him be gay. It might even help him with a better fashion sense."

"There's nothing wrong with the way Lance dresses," I say, raising a brow. "Sure, he looks like a lumberjack, but isn't that what women go for?"

"Is that what _you_ go for?" Oliver asks, curiosity getting to him. "Because I don't own anything... plaid."

"No, it's _not_ what I go for," I tell him, rolling my eyes. "You look _fine_, Oliver."

No, that's a lie and you know it. He looks fucking jumpable.

"Just wondering," he says softly, smiling with satisfaction. Honestly.

"So do you really think I should leave Lance alone?" my mother asks, wringing her hands together.

"_Yes_!" my father groans into his hands. "For the love of french toast, Vecita, _yes_!"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"You're _fucking_ with me."

"No, I'm not."

You don't know this, but I'm secretly wishing I am. Right now. In this very cubicle.

"You're_ joking_!"

"I'm _not_!"

"Of _course_ she's not!"

"I'm really not."

Here we are, Oliver, George, and I, gathered around my cubicle, the following afternoon. I don't know what it is about my cubicle, but everyone always seems to hang around here. In this confined, boring space. Compared to a lovely mansion, or a gigantic joke shop. I was told they both like modesty.

"He cheated on her." Oliver repeats what I've just told him a minute ago. "But she's so _nice_! And she's so cool! And she's so _pretty_- "

"Gee, Oliver, I hdan't notice," I say sarcastically, biting my tongue.

He gives me a cheeky smile. "Are you jealous?"

"Doubtful."

"You're jealous!"

"What would I even be jealous _of_?"

"That I think your best friend is prettier than you!"

What did he say?

I give him a glare. "You're such a fucking jerk. And my best friend isn't only her. It's George too."

I hate him. I absolutely hate him. I can't believe I thought about having sex with him a minute ago. I am completely livid.

"Relax, Katie," he laughs, "I'm just joking."

I give him a mock laugh. "I'm _so_ impressed with your joke. Really, I am." I turn my attention to George. "Hey, are you feeling okay?"

"Fine," he utters, barely heard. "Just fine."

"What are you thinking?"

"Just... regular things I guess."

"Like what?"

"Inventory, stocks..."

"Are you thinking about Nasuada?" Oliver asks, breaking my streak of questions.

"Of course I am," George answers, looking far away.

"What _about_ her?" I say before Oliver can. "Is it about Jack?"

George breaks out of his trance. "Why would I be thinking of another guy?"

"You think about _me_ once in a while, don't you?" Oliver asks, wiggling his eyebrows. "Because I'm dang sexy."

There's a slight pause until George speaks. "Wow, did you actually just _say_ those words?"

"I was just trying them out to see if they sounded cool. Geez." George and I both look at Oliver who seems a bit cross.

"Hey Kates, were you turned on?" Oliver asks me.

I give him a glare. "My name isn't Kates. It's _Katie_. And _no_, I wasn't turned on. In fact, I feel embarassed for you."

"Oh don't be such a sour cat. It's only you, me and George in here anyway."

"Yeah, and like I said, I feel embarassed for you."

"Are you still ticked off with my earlier comment?"

"Don't talk to me right now."

"Aren't you the one who always says we're not dating? So you have no reason getting mad at me."

What is up with this lard and talking logistics?

"I'll discuss this matter after we talk about Nasuada," I hiss at him.

"Who'd he get it on with?" Oliver asks me.

"Oliver, that's a pretty inappropriate question - " I start, but George gives me a look of deep interest as well.

"I'm not going to tell you who did it," I say, crossing my arms. "It's none of your business."

"Does Nasuada know who did it?" George asks.

"No, she doesn't."

"But _you_ do," Oliver states, cocking up an eyebrow. "How is that possible?"

"Don't question my knowledge!" I snap, throwing a pen at him. I throw another one at George. "Don't be such nosy pricks. I'll tell you when I want to."

_Which is never._

"Is it too early to ask her out on a date?" George pipes up, a small smile on his face.

God, men are so inconsiderate of others' feelings except their own. "Of course it's too early. She's still crying over it, I hope you know. Let her mull over him."

"But he was a jackass."

"I know, but she liked him."

"But I thought she liked George," Oliver says, scratching his head.

"Oh, catch up with the story if you want to be part of it!" I tell him, launching another pen at him. Damn his Keeper skills! My pens will never poke out one of his eyes!

"Why are you suddenly so mean?" he asks me, brows furrowing.

"Go figure it out yourself!"

"Fine! I _will_!" he says, flicking a pen at my nose. "And your quidditch skills are deteriorating!" And with that, he stomps out of my cubicle.

George stares at the entrance and then at me. "Is there something going between you two that I don't know of?"

"No!"

"Come on, Katie. You can tell me. We tell each other everything anyway. No need to be embarassed. You already knew I shat my pants when Fred came in holding a ferret in Third Year."

I roll my eyes at him. "Nothing's between Oliver and I."

He gives me a hard stare. "Katie, don't be so full of shit. Everybody knows you both like each other. Just get on with it already."

"Okay, whatever man. This conversation isn't suppossed to be about my love affairs. It's about you and Nasuada."

"Actually, there's nothing much to cover anymore," he says, tapping a finger to his chin. "She broke up with the guy because she found out he was cheating on her with some mysterious woman. She's heartbroken and still mending, ergo, I've got to wait a couple of days - maybe even a few weeks - until I can ask her out. Hopefully, no one else does, because let's face it - she's pretty hot. So with that done, it's your turn to share."

"There's _nothing_ to share - "

"I said don't be so full of shit."

"But there's nothing - "

"Don't be so full of shit."

"Okay _fine_! We had dinner with my parent!"

"Okay, everyone knows that too. What happened afterwards? He kissed you, didn't he?"

I raise an eyebrow. "How do you know?"

"You've got that face on."

"What face!"

"That face of yours. Whenever you receive your first kiss from any guy you're dating, you have this weird... perkiness. Some sort of glow. Not the pregnant kind that Angelina gets. But you've got some sort of inner light beaming at everyone."

"Whatever."

"But you're angry with him right now," George conitnues, ignoring my comment. "I doubt he meant that you're ugly compared to Nasuada. You aren't."

"Thank you," I sniff, crossing my arms again. "It's nice to hear."

"Maybe you should stop being such a sulky woman, suck it up, and tell him you like him."

"Hey!" I cry, giving him a swift kick on the foot. "I'm not a sulky woman! And I'll tell him when I actually do."

Which is now. But that's my secret to keep for myself.

"You do now, so tell him. He's already told you. Don't be such a pussy. The bad kind."

"George, I can't."

He gives me a look. "Why not?"

"Because I'm not sure."

"What aren't you sure about?"

Ugh. I have to explain myself. I throw my hands into my hair. "I don't know! Sure, okay. Everybody loves Oliver. I mean, seriously, who wouldn't? He's got billions of fans. All my friends like him, Everybody knows him. My parents are in love with him. The problem is me. I don't know if I like him that much yet."

"But you _do_!"

"Stop _saying_ that! I know I like him. But I'm just not... to that level yet."

"What level?"

"The level where I want a relationship. Look, George. I've only realized that I liked him a week ago. I'm not going to jump into something - "

"Someone might jump before you do and then it might be too late."

"But I don't want to risk my friendship with him on something that might fail."

"Why do you expect it to fail?" he asks me, putting his feet on my desk. I instantly brush them off, but he puts them back. "Every relationship you've had, you always expected it to fail. You're always like that. Those guys wouldn't be flings if you didn't doubt yourself so much!"

"Those wre just casual dates - "

"That could've turned into a full fledged relationship if you'd let it."

"George, honestly - "

"No, Katie. Honstly. I know you. I know your habits and your personality. I've never said anything every time you've dumped a guy. I've always been there, waiting to get drunk and merry with you. But I personally think Oliver is the best catch for you. And you're the best catch for him. I refuse to stand aside and let you ruin yourself because of your mindless inner battles."

"Give me some time."

"You've had practically a year."

"Untrue. It's only Frebruary right now. It'll be a year in May."

"Which is your birthday."

"I suppose."

"His birthday's next month."

"Wonderful."

"Come on, Katie. Look alive. Why wouldn't you want Oliver? He's got one point true - he's dang sexy."

I give a laugh at the comment. "I _know_ he's dang sexy. But I'm just so plain compared to him."

"Don't underestimate yourself. You're freakin hot to him."

"How do _you_ know?"

"He told me. Unfortunately, I had to endure him talking about the physical attributes of my best friend while trying to down a glass of protein shake."

"Hey!" I exclaim, shoving him. "What'd he say?"

George gives me a cringe. "Are you actually _asking_ me to repeat his worship towards you?"

"Yes."

"_No_."

"Please, George? If it weren't for me, you wouldn't even have _met_ Nasuada!"

He glares at me. "_Fine_."

"Okay, shoot."

"He said the following: Doesn't Katie Bell have the biggest ass? It's so flouncy."

"Be serious, George!"

"I _am_!"

"No you're not. Now tell me the truth. Please!"

"He said: I can't believe after all these years, I still haven't asked her out. George, have you checked her out? She's got the _most _amazing cleavage!"

I turn red and laugh. "Did he really say that?"

"Unfortunately."

"What else did he say?"

"He said he liked how your hips are curvy."

"Really?" I say, more to myself. Instinctively, I put my hands on my hips. They are rather curvy, aren't they?

"And he likes the fact that your breasts aren't overly large because it might impair your quidditch playing."

This time I burst with giggles. "He said that?"

"Yes."

"Oh, Oliver. What a guy."

"Exactly. So please, for Merlin's sake, go shag him so he can stop telling me how much he loves your woman parts."

"He might tell you about our sex life though."

"I'd rather hear about sex moves than the way your breasts resemble the perky shape of clementines."

"Seriously?"

"Wouldn't _you_?"

"Not really."

"Well, with sex moves, we might discuss what turns women on."

"Okay, let's just stop this conversation right now, because I'm getting highly uncomfortable." I scratch my arm consciously and fidget.

""Okay. Then I suppose you'll have to find him right now and apologize to him," George says, smiling at me.

"I'm not apologizing! I did no wrong!"

"You were pretty bitter back there. And you launched two pens on him."

"He's a _Keeper_, it has no affect on him."

"Not physically. Go on, Katie. I think he's really crushed."

"But - "

"I'm afriad I'll have to go now. Fred's shift is almost done and the new girl we hired is a bit on the slow side. See you later, Kates."

"It's not Kates, it's _Katie_," I call after him, but he's already gone.

Men.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

This is so weird. Like, out of this world weird. I cannot _believe_ I am actually here.

Me! _Here_! In Ludo Bagman's office. Honestly, never in a million centuries would I have thought that he'd actually take notice on me.

Of course, I really wouldn't be standing here if it weren't for Oliver. The dumb goat forgot to put on his disguise after stomping out of my space. And instantly, everyone was all over him. Well, just Bagman, because Bagman got to him first.

"I want to offer you a job, Ms. Bell!" Bagman announces to me. I'm currently facing him in the chair opposite his, a wide desk between us. This place is like... a squillion times larger than my cramped cubicle. Talk about horrible distribution of work status. I swear, this work palce is becoming a communist party.

"Actually, sir, I already have a job." This is me, biting my lip, quavering against my mega boss. I am such a turd.

He gives me a confused look. "Y'do? Where? I will double their pay!"

Well, this is going to be a hoot. "No, sir. I actually work for _you_."

Even more confused. "You do? I've never seen you before in my _life_..."

"She's your junior secretary," Oliver pipes up, sitting beside me on the chair. Geez. He just made a mistake on my job position!

"Well, no," I continue, swalling against my dry throat. "I'm actually your secretary's secretary's junior secretary."

There's a slight pause until he spews out an agressive, "_What_!"

"Clive Hester's your secretary. And Owen Boister is Clive's secretary. Do you follow?"

"So you're telling me your name isn't 'Katie Bell', but in fact, 'Owen Boister'?"

I'd scream, but everyone knows it's courtesy not to scream at your mega boss employer. "No, I'm Owen Boister's junior secretary."

"_Junior_?"

"Boister's got two secretaries under him. I'm at the bottom of the chain."

"But you're such a bright young lass!"

At this, I remain silent. It's true. Five years ago, I did show much potential, aside from being cursed for half the school year. But still man. I was smart! I _deserve_ some credit.

"She's really a great person to have on your team, Ludo," Oliver says earnestly. "She can do so many things! She's a great writer, editor, and interviewer!"

Actually, I'm none of those things. Well, maybe a good writer and editor. But honestly, that's all.

"She can pretty much give the department all the imrpovement you've wanted for years," Oliver finishes. He gives me an encouraging nod to verify the information he's passed about me.

"But you're a _secretary_," Bagman says, a look of doubt in his eyes. "Can a secretary actually... _do_ all those things?"

"A secretary is always doing paper work," I answer, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. "Which indicates that I'm an editor. I've also written a few pieces for you, sir."

"You have, have you? I don't remember ever assigning you anything..."

"Well, Hester passed it onto Boister who passed it onto Jason, who passed it onto me."

"Who's Jason?"

"Boister's senior secretary."

"Have I met him?"

"He's the one who looks gay," Oliver tells him, picking up a lollipop from Bagman's candy bowl. "The twenty-something guy who has that weird walk and the really good hair."

"Oh! _That_ fellow! Jameson?"

"That's him," I answer dully. "So I write and edit. I'm pretty sure I'm a good interviewer - "

"_Pretty_ sure?" Bagman cuts in, his eyes going narrow. "You're not _completely_ positive?"

"Well, I've never interviewed anyone - "

"But she has a way with grilling others," Oliver says immediately. "And us quittich players usually become comfortable in her company. I mean, nobody being interviewed would release information to someone they feel uncomfortable with, yeah? She already knows Alan."

"_Bellesque_?" Bagman asks, almost a whisper. He turns to me. "You've met _Alan Bellesque_?"

I look skeptically at him. "Sure I have. Haven't _you_?"

He gapes at me. "Heavens _no_, lass! I haven't met Alan Bellesque. He's one of the hardest people to catch, let alone _speak _with! In my whole entire lifetime, I've probably only been in his company twice. And we were on opposite ends of the room most of the time. I've barely spoken a word to him, except the usual greeting. But you've _met_ him! _How_?"

"At a party," I shrug. "He's quite a lovely person."

Bagman looks over to Oliver, aghast. "None of my staff have ever met Alan Bellesque."

"Technically," Oliver says, pointing out a finger, "she's your staff and she's met Alan. So one of your staff has met him. Just speaking... in technical terms. And Katie knows me on a personal level. We were friends back in school. There's another advantage of promoting her."

Wait a second! I never asked for a _promotion_!

Okay, well not to his face. But still, I never asked for a promotion. And here's Oliver, going around to super boss Ludovic Bagman, demanding I get a promotion. It's rude, sudden, and... it's not like he can actually get me one! Even though he is a big quidditch star, he can't go demanding job positions for other people! It's just _not cool_!

"Done," Bagman says, smiling over at me.

What the hell? Okay, really. What the hell did this guy just say?

"Welcome to the team, Ms. Bell."

"She was already part of the team," Oliver says, but I barely hear him. "I think what you meant to say is, congratulations on your new job as Editor in Chief and being a Head interviewer."

Gosh, isn't that asking _too_ much? And geez, it's not even _me_ who's asking for it!

"Now hold on there, Oliver," Bagman says, brows furrowing. "I never agreed to _Editor in Chief_ and _Head interviewer_. I just said promotion."

"So you just want to promote her to another secretorial job?"

"My very own secretary!" Bagman beams over at me, his boyish grin making me gag.

"So what you're saying is that you want her to go from being a secretary to _another _secretary, and demote Hester down a level, as well as Boister, decrease their pay, stir up huge mayhem in your office, and become one of the most hated Heads in the entire Ministry?" Gosh, that Oliver sure has some choice of words.

"Well, no," Bagman stutters, scratching his head. "What do you want me to do then, upset some of my staff to have the lass become Editor in Chief and Head interviewer? We've already _got_ those!"

"Then I'm afraid you'll just have to find someone else as brilliant as Katie to mold into your Department. She'll _quit_!"

_Oh. My. God._

He's totally putting me into a bad light. He's going to make me lose my job! Then I'll never have another job because it's not like Bagman's going to give me any good references for future employers. I'm going to be the subject of gossip in the entire United Kingdom wizarding world! What am I going to _do_?

I'm about to say something, until Oliver shoots me one of those 'trust me' looks.

"With the loss of her," Oliver continues, his voice going up notches on the serious tone, "you'll also face the loss of _me_. With the loss of _me_, you will never gain any liking or respect from any of the quidditch teams of the United Kingdom, as well as the rest of Europe. Would you want to jeopardize that, all because you can't be generous enough to give my friend here a decent job, compared to the lowest one she's held for five years?"

Okay, my job isn't _that_ low.

_Fine_!

"You can't _do_ that!" Bagman exclaims, all the colour draining from his face. "That's just _ridiculous_ - "

"_Is _it?" Oliver asks, with a completely straight face. "I don't think so. But if you can't agree - "

"Of course I can't agree!"

He gives Bagman a cold stare. "Alright then. That's just fine." He stands up from his chair. "You will regret this later on. Well, actually, by tomorrow. By then, I'm pretty sure I can convince the entire quidditch world to turn against you. And without quidditch, your Department will be left with nothing but Gobstone challenges, and the occasional Exploding Snaps reports. Come on, Katie. Let's go."

I freeze in my chair. My knuckles grow white as I clutch to the arms of it. This can't be happening. No, this isn't happening at all. I can't be out of a job! Just like that! No, that's just stupid. I mean, I can't really be fired for this, can I? It wasn't even me giving out all those demands! All I did was just _sit_ there!

"Get up, Katie," Oliver says. I feel strong hands lift me up from under my arms into a standing position.

"Oliver, I can't lose my job!" I hiss into his ear.

"Shut up, okay?" he whispers back, not looking at me. "I know what I'm doing. Just _trust_ me! I will get you the job you deserve!"

"Well, we're going now, Ludo," Oliver announces, dragging me towards the door. "Have yourself a wonderful life. Don't stress out too much if you get hate mail."

He says I should trust him. How the fuck am I suppossed to trust some guy who just cost me my _job_? This isn't cool! He wouldn't even care, since he's making gazillions! Thanks to him, I won't even have an _income_! Oh Merlin, I'm going to die. My parents are going to hate me even more, and I am going to _die_. I'm going to die without a husband, without kids, and without anything. All I have are two owls and a bloody fish that can't even swim! This is _not_ how I wanted to go! I won't even have enough to afford a good ceremony for my passsing. Oh god, this is me, freaking out. I have _no_ job. If I have no job, it means I have nothing.

_I have nothing._

"Just a few more steps and we're out of this office, Katie. Come on, be reasonable and move your feet!"

How can I be reasonable if I've just lost my job! I don't want to take these few steps and get out of his office! It just means that I'll forever be turning away from the only job I'll ever get and then I won't have anything! I don't want to have nothing! I want a life of luxury and pampering! I don't care how materialistic I'm being, but I want to be able to buy things! Like bath sets and clothes and books -

"_Wait_!" An ear splintering screech comes from behind us.

I quickly glance at Oliver who's smiling as if he has a secret. He nods, and we both turn around.

"Yes?" Oliver asks courteously. His hands are still gripped around my shoulders.

"Don't leave!" Bagman cries, running over to us and slamming his office door shut. "I'm sure we can compromise!"

"But you've already said - "

"Forget what I've said. We're all compromising people, aren't we? Let's have a seat and discuss - "

"No," Oliver states firmly. Bagman stiffens as he gapes at us. "It's either Editor in Chief and Head interviewer, or we leave."

Oliver remains silent as we both watch Bagman. His eyes are swivelling around the room and growing beady. His forehead is crimson, and beads of sweat emerge from it. His hands tremble.

"_Well_?" Oliver asks, after a minute. "What's your decision?"

When we receive no answer, he says, "Okay then. We're leaving now. Don't try stopping us again - "

"Fine!" Bagman shrieks, rushing to us. "_Fine_! Editor in Chief and Head interviewer!"

"Seriously?" I ask in disbelief. "Honestly, sir!"

"Yes!" he replies, but frowning. "I'm afraid you might have to share both positions with another though."

"That's fine, as long as she gets the same pay as them, and double since she's working both jobs," Oliver says, his voice hard. " As well as opportunities for raises. What do you say, Ludo?"

Bagman gives a sigh and rubs his eyes. "Does it look like I have a choice?"

"Not really." Oliver's hands squeeze my shoulders.

He got me a job. He got me a _job_!

And not just some old crummy job. A job that's worth reporting to work every morning! A job that's fun and exciting! A job that I actually like! And not just a job. _Two_ jobs! _Double_ the pay! Chances of getting a _raise_!

"You'll start next monday, Ms. Bell," Bagman tells me, heaving himself back over to his chair. "Report to Owen Boister tomorrow morning."

This is so great! "Yes sir! You won't regret this sir!"

He really won't!

"See?" Oliver whispers. "You didn't lose a job. You just dropped it and gained another two."

I give him a smile of thanks, which he accepts with satisfaction. As we walk towards the exit to the office, I quickly turn around.

"Mr. Bagman?" I say timidly, cluitching my fingers.

He gives me a raised eyebrow. "Yes, Ms. Bell?"

"I'd appreciate it too if you promoted Jason Jameson as well."

His jaw drops within a second. "I've just given you two powerful positions, Ms. Bell! That's generous enough!"

"I know you have, sir. And I'm eternally grateful! But Jason Jameson is practicallly like me. He _deserves_ a promotion as much as I do!"

"Ms. Bell - "

"Really, sir! You don't have to promote him to something high and mighty, but please, just consider giving him a better position! He really deserves it! He's so hard working - "

"_Fine_!" he exclaims, going red in the face. "I'll assign him to a job tomorrow! Are you happy?"

I smile brightly at him. "Beyond happy, sir. I'm ecstatic!"

"Do you want me to promote Boister as well?" he asks sarcastically.

"Actually, no. He deserves to know what it feels like to be at the bottom of the chain for once."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"I can't believe you had the guts to do that."

After literally skipping out of the Ministry building in an elated manner, Oliver had offered to buy me dinner as a congratulations gift. Of course, I offered to treat him since it was his doing. But since he's male, he refused my offer.

"Well, I just wanted you to like your job," Oliver replies, stabbing at his plate. "Everyone always says the more you enjoy what you do, the more productive you'll be."

"Sometimes, everyone is wrong," I mutter through a mouthful.

"Take a look at me, I play quidditch, I love being a Keeper. Therefore, I'm great at the game, am really famous, and make lots of money."

"I suppose a good job makes a happy person."

"It does. I never want to retire. But I think I'd have to when I get old. But I'll still be good looking."

"And still arrogant."

"I'm arrogant for the both of us," he says lightly, his face in a smirk.

"Okay, first of all," I tell him, pointing my fork at him, "I don't need to be arrogant, or have anyone be arrogant for me. Second of all, what do you mean, you're doing it for the _both_ of us?"

"You know."

"No, I don't. Englighten me."

"When we grow old, I'll be the sassy one."

"When we grow old."

"Of course. Our kids will have my sassiness and your prudey no-nonsense attitude."

"We're getting_ married_?" I ask, half choking on some spinach.

"Obviously," he says, rolling his eyes. "In just a few short years, I'll be able to charm my way into getting you married to me. And then we'll have three kids - "

"Hey, isn't it the _woman's_ job to be thinking about marriage and the number of kids she'll have?"

"Well, in our case, I still have to manage to woo you properly. So I'm thinking ahead."

"How the hell can our kids be sassy _and_ uptight?"

"I dunno. But it'll happen."

"What if it doesnt?"

He gives me a strange look. "Why wouldn't it happen?"

"I'm just saying - "

"It'll happen. Don't worry about it."

I make a noise that he ignores. "Anyway, I'm sorry about earlier this day. I do think you're rather pretty actually."

"_Please_, Oliver. You don't have to lie - "

"But I'm not."

I put down my fork and riase my eyebrows. "Do you actually think I believe you when you say I'm pretty? Because I'm don't."

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

"I'm not your type, I hope you know. Appearance-wise anyway."

"_Yes_, you are."

"Prove it."

He takes a sip from his glass of water slowly and deliberately. "Okay fine. I'll tell you. But afterwards, you'll have to believe me."

"Deal."

"Now, I have nothing against blondes. In fact, my own mother is a blonde. But I'm not exactly attracted to blondes. Maybe redheads. But not blondes. I stick with the brunettes. And people with almost-black hair too. They just look more exotic compared to blondes."

"My hair's nothing special."

"You may not think so. But I like the dark shade and how it sort of waves at the ends."

Well, that's awfully nice, since I'm not a big fan of my hair. "What else?"

"You're not under five foot five."

I laugh at this comment. "Who _isn't_ uner five foot five?"

"You'd be surprised," he comments, making a face. "Practically everybody is under five-five."

"What's wrong with being short? Most guys I know love having short girlfriends. They claim its cute."

"Considering the fact that I'm a fairly tall person, it would look extremely strange to walk around the street with someone who comes up to my elbow. Okay, that's exaggerating, but you know what I mean. And besides, it's hard to do stuff with them if they're short."

I snort in my drtink. "Did you just say _do_ stuff with them?"

"Yeah..." He shakes his head. "Once, I went out with a girl who was five foot three. We went to see a concert - the Flaming Wands - but she was so short, she couldn't even catch a glimpse of the band. So I had to spend the entire time lifting her on my shoulders. It was brutal."

"But you're so strong. Surely it wouldn't make a difference to you."

"You try carrying a fair few hundred pounds on your shoulders for four hours straight."

I give a chuckle. "So concerts are out with short people. You can still do stuff with them."

"It's hard to kiss them because we both can only stretch so much. And in bed, it's easier with a taller person because you can reach things and have a better grasp - "

"_Okay_!" I cry, holding up my hands. "I don't want to know about your sexual romps with women."

"I'm just saying it's easier to reach."

"I get it. Please, talk about something else."

He takes a moment to think about his next comment. "I like your friends."

"Oliver, my friends are _your_ friends. Honestly!"

"Exactly. I won't have to feel uncomfortable and try to pretend I like them, when I truly do."

"That's it for the reasons why you like me?"

"No," he says, smiling at me. "You're funny."

"Please. Don't flatter me."

"Funny and sarcastic. The right amount of both."

"Okay, you're finished now, right?"

"Katie, there about about a million hundred things I like and love about you," he tells me, leaning his head on his palm. "If you ask me to tell you every little bit, we might have to stay here forever."

"I'm not big on pick-up lines."

"It wasn't a pick-up line. Or any type of line."

I remain silent as I feel my face grow warm. "That's awfully sweet of you, Oliver."

"I come dipped in sugar."

"Do you honestly think I'm going to marry you?" I ask, after a slight pause on the conversation. "Because if you ask me, I highly doubt - "

"You're going out to dinner with me next sunday," he breaks through, smiling open-mouthed. "And no, that wasn't a question. It was more of a statement. Or demand. Both work. But you're having dinner with me on sunday."

"But I have something planned with Angelina - !"

"Great, I'll tell her you cancelled. She'll understand."

"Oliver, isn't it a bit sudden _and_ rude to just cancel out for me - "

"She'll understand."

"What if she doesn't?"

"_Trust_ me, Katier. She'll understand."

"But what if _I_ don't want to go?" I ask him, narrowing my eyes. "Have you even considered _my_ feelings?"

"Of course I have," he says dismissively. "I'm completely sure that you want to have dinner with me. So you really don't haver anything to complain about."

Okay. He caught me. I just thought he'd _ask_ me. And then I would've made this big show about how I'll consider it and all. Then I would finally give him my anserr of yes, and we would both smile serenly at each other. Blast him and turning the tables around.

"_Great_!" he exclaims, whipping out an agenda with snitches on the front. "I'll pick you up at seven. I'm bringing you back to my place."

"What, are you going to cook for me or something?"

"Yes."

I laugh. "Oliuver, since when do _you _cook?"

"I've always cooked," he tells me, looking at me as if I were a stranger. "Since I was about twelve."

"Yeah, okay."

"Don't worry. You'll admire me afterwards and beg me to cook for you for the rest of your life. Lucky for _you,_ your wish will be granted since we'll be getting married in approximately three years from next month. Then I actually _can_ cook for the rest of your life."

Okay, what the fuck? He timed the years we're going to spend dating?

Wow, _what_ the hell. Am I actually believing we'll be dating?

"Oliver, you can't _time_ a relationship."

"But I didn't. I went to a Seer."

"Don't tell me you actually believe in them? Most of them are a bunch of phonies anyway."

He gives me a secretive smile. "Well, we'll just have wait and see about that. Dinner at seven next sunday, Kates. Don't you forget."

A bite my tongue as a seeth at him. "My name is _Katie_. Call me _Katie_!"

He flashes me yet another grin. How is it that a guy who can make me feel so high and then so infuriated in three seconds become my husband in three years?

* * *

**a/n:** ok so! i said an update between march and april. technically, i have met my own deadline, because it's april. not may, but april.

if any of you find it difficult to read long chapters, i suggest that you don't read at all, or take a few breaks between parts of the chapter.

anyway, i'm sorry for not updating any later, but i tried! i rewrote this thing three times (seriously) but was never happy with it. i'm actually quite pleased with this one. if you disagree, please tell me. i don't mind. i really don't.

anyway, twelfth grade totally sucks, especially when you're taking writer's craft/history/world-issues. each subject requires me to write a 10page essay. writers craft even demands me to write a 20page historical short story as well as essay. so i honestly don't know when the next chapter will be coming. but rest assured, it will come before june. ok, so i'm lying. i can't promise that one. but i'll promise to try.

so i went to see lily allen yesterday, and she's pretty good live. but so is the bird and the bee. go download some of their songs, they're pretty hot. especially their drummer, joey waronker.

ok, peez out, **review** _(SERIOUSLY SINCE I WORKED SO HARD ON THIS MUHFUGGUH) _have a wonderful long easter weekend, keep up the school work, and... ok that's all i got. bye kids.


	22. I Saw The Sign

**a/n:** right then, i've decided to update early. this might be once again, another long chapter. but i like it. so there.

* * *

I wonder if Slinky ever gets lonely in this place. I mean, honestly. Theres about a gazillion rooms in here, and the owner is hardly ever home. There's no company in here that she can converse with. If I were Slinky, I'd probably go crazy. It's creepy in here too if you're alone. I bet there's an echo.

"_Hello_!" I cry into the front foyer. I can distinctly hear my echo wave around the room.

"What are you doing?" Oliver asks he, his face molded into one of confusion.

"Just listening for my echo."

"Alright then..."

I should be feeling embarassed. But alas, I do not. I follow Oliver through his maze-like first floor into the common room. I know I've already been in this place, but that was only once. And back then, I wasn't as interested as I am now. I must say, for a brute of a quidditch player, he has some pretty cool taste.

"Feel free to sit a bit, I still have to make dinner."

I turn my head to him. "You mean you haven't already started?"

He gives me a scoff. "Katie, _please_. Why would I?"

With that, he turns his heels out of the room, and I'm guessing for the kitchen.

Is it just me, or is this house completely silent when you're alone? Well, don't be silly, Katie. Everywhere's silent when you're alone. Gosh! But really, this house is really getting on my nerves. It's okay, self. At least there's a bunch of cool stuff to browse at while he's gone.

Take a look at this chair! It's _lime green_! Now who do I know owns a _lime green_ chair? Nobody!... Well, nobody besides Oliver. And who do I know has this... strange... white poofy thing? See? There's no need to feel uncomfortable. It's not like this place is haunted.

Good grief, this place better not be haunted.

Walk around. Yes, that's it. Just walk around. Keep walking around the room. He has so many pictures here. You can't be bored or scared with pictures to look at, right? Of course not. See? Here's one of Oliver and his parents - wow he sure looks like his father. With his mother's chin. Good combination.

Wow, this next picture sure looks silly. Who knew twelve year old Oliver Wood would be so gangly? I guess he grew into his burliness when he was fourteen, which was when I firt saw him. And I swear to Merlin, he was _not_ gangly. Very buff on the other hand.

And here's one of him again, I'm guessing later since he's got his buffness now. And I guess this is the age where he grew into his looks. It's strange, isn't it, how ugly kids grow up to be good looking, and good looking kids grow up not to be so pretty. He looks quite handsome in this one. Even in his school robes and all.

Ah, and there's the quidditch team from Hogwarts, 'Team Oliver'. George hanging upside down from his floating broom, Alicia and Angelina arm in arm. There's Fred making strange faces at us, Harry smiling brightly at the camera, as if afraid to do anything else. And there's me, looking extremely stupid, scrunched in a hug by the captain. I'm thinking it was painful, but I can't even remember taking that picture.

I walk over to the other side of the room where there are portraits hanging off the wall. He's got loads of him and his parents. It's quite sweet, actually, since I know no guy who displays photos of their family for everyone to see. Maybe he's close with his parents. I don't know. Actually. now that I think about it, there are so many things that I don't know about Oliver.

I just realized that I never took the time to actually get to know him as a person. I'ver had almost a year, and I still don't know what his favourite colour is.

I feel my legs bring me back to the couch as I stare around with a daze. I'm suppossed to marry this guy and I know_ nothing_ about him. I don't even know _why_ I'm suppossed to marry this guy, when I haven't even agreed to go on a date or anything. Well, maybe once. And tonight. But still. Is the Seer right? Did the Seer actually tell him he was going to marry me? I mean, obviously, half the stuff they say is completely rubbish, but what if it's not? Aren't there some fortunes that are actually true? But then again, it won't be true unless you make it true -

"_SWEET MERLIN_!"

I bet my eyes are bulging. I can't believe I didn't even manage to see something walking around the room in the first place!

"_Slinky_!" I exclaim, clutching my chest. "Slinky...!" Wow, I can't even say anything else. I'm such a loser.

"Slinky is terribly sorry, miss!" the house elf squeaks, clutching her ears. "Slinky is sorry! Slinky did not mean to scare off miss!"

"Is everything okay in here?" Both our heads whip over to the doorway, where Oliver is holding two eggs and a spatula. He raises an eyebrow. "Nothing broke, right?"

"No sir!" Slinky says, running up to him. "Master Oliver, let Slinky cook - "

"No, Slink, _I_ want to cook for you," Oliver replies, smiling down at her. "Besides, you know you do enough here already. Too much. And what're you doing down here?" He looks at her sternly. "Is that a damp cloth I see in your hand?"

The house elf seems to shrink in her own toga. "Y-y-yes, sir."

"Slink, are you _cleaning_?"

"Yes, sir."

He raises an eyebrow at her. "What did I tell you to do an hour ago?"

"Sir told me to read books, play games, have a bath, or something fun. Sir said not to clean."

"And you're cleaning _why_?"

"Slinky cannot help but enjoy cleaning, sir!"

House elves are the weirdest creature on the face of the earth.

"Did you give Katie a scare, Slink?" Oliver asks, bending down closer to her.

"Slinky did not _mean_ to scare miss!" Slinky says, covering her face with the rag. "Slinky is sorry!"

"She already apologied," I quickly cut in, walking over awkwardly. "It's okay, she didn't mean it. And I'm fine. And she's fine. We're all fine..."

"Well... okay." I watch as Oliver heaves a sigh and gets up, pointing a finger out of the room. "Go on, Slink. Enjoy yourself. The world is your oyster! Do something - not cleaning, not any type or labour. Have fun! Relax!"

Without a word, the house elf disappears, scattering away as quickly as possible.

"You're a pretty nice boss to her," I tell him, watching Slinky climb the stairbase. "I'm sure shes's quite happy being here."

"I try to make her work less," I says softly, rolling the eggs around his palm. "I feel guilty for leaving her alone so often, you know? So techinically, I'm a pretty ass boss."

"No, Oliver. You're not. It's not your fault you can't be at home much. She knows that."

"I know, but I just feel bad. She's like my kid."

I give him a strange look. "Your _kid_?"

"Well, yeah..." he steps out of the room, signalling me to follow. "I mean, I know it sounds so weird, but that's how I feel. I feel like she's my kid, and that I'm abandoning her three weeks out of every month. I don't want her to think I'm doing it on purpose. What if she decides to hate me later?"

"Well, Oliver, sometimes your arrogance can make me want to slap you," I comment, walking into the kitchen. When he gives me a look, I laugh. "Okay, seriously. She doesn't hate you. She seems to like you very much."

"You don't know that. I don't know that. I just feel bad."

There's a lull as Oliver turens his back to me and breaks the eggs in his hand. I never knew that Oliver Wood could feel... like _this_. I never knew he treated his house elf with as much love as he would a child. Maybe he really _does_ want children. Well, _three_, to be exact. Three sassy and uptight children. I have no doubts he'd be a good father, but he's right, He's harldy ever at home. I'm his friend and I hardly ever see him. If I had a father who was never there, I would grow to resent him. Or if I had a husband who was never home, I wouldn't know what to think. Would he be cheaitng on me, or have some secret family on the side?

"I can't quit quidditch or anything!" Oliver exclaims suddenly. I jump a little, but he doesn't see, since his back is still facing me. "It's not like I can. The whole team depends on me. The World Cup is coming again soon, and they want me as first Keeper. But sometimes, I really hate my job."

"Hey," I say lightly, going a bit closer to him. "What ever happened to you loving your job and all its perks?"

"Theres always a downside to everything. The downside to playing professional quidditch is never getting to be at home. I mean, look around this place, Katie!"

"Oh, I have," I murmur, but he doesn't hear me.

"Do you know how much I spent on this house? And I can't even enjoy a solid month in it! I never get to see my family. My parents are always complaining about how they miss me, and I can't do anyting about it. I never know what's going on between my friends because I'm not there to experience things with them. Every girlfriend I've ever had complains that they'd be better off dating their broom because it's actually present."

I watch as his hands grip the counter. His knuckles grow white. "I love my job. I just hate how it never lets me be who I want to be. I have no freedom."

"But you're famous, you're rich, and you're admired."

"Fame doesn't do me any good. Half my fan base are crazy girls who stalk me and scare the shit out of me. There's no point in being rich when you can't enjoy it because you're always in the air blocking balls. And being admired is nice, but it gets old. It's not like I'm doing anything special. I just raise my arms to keep a ball from getting into a hoop. That's it."

I hate it when I'm speechless, and when I think I'm suppossed to say something but can't.

"Oliver..."

"In two days, I have to go Ireland for three months. Which means I won't be here for my birthday, Fred and George's birthday, and your birthday."

"It's fine... we won't get mad at you or anything..."

"No, Katie. It's _not_ fine." He throws the spatula forcefully onto the counter. "I hate myself sometimes!"

"Don't say that - "

"But I _do_! I hate how I'm never here long enough. I hate how I miss every important thing going on with everyone! I hate leaving my parents three weeks early from our vacation to train! I hate how I never get to see my friends! I especially hate it when I have to spend time with a bunch of smelly men, knowing that I could be spending a time with _you_. And you smell _nice_."

Once again, I'm speechless. I'm touched that he misses me especially. It's kind of... romantic. In a way.

Okay, I know I'm weird to find romance in grief. But there you go.

I walk over to him, and instead of patting his shoulder or saying something comforting, I wrap my arms around him. I don't even know why I'm doing it, and it's a bit awkward since his back is to me. But since I can't find anything to say, I'm guessing a hug will suffice.

"What are you doing?" he asks me, tensing up a bit.

"Giving you a hug," I tell him, My voice is muffled, as I'm pressing my face to his muscled back. Very muscled back. Rippled, muscly back.

"Why?"

"People have always told me that hugs are great. And that hugs are more meaningful than words."

A slight pause rings between us as he digests my words and the hug. Slowly, I feel him begin to relax in my grip. He surprised me suddenly, by turning around and facing me.

"Thanks," he manages to say, a small smile on his face.

"You're welcome," I reply, turning my face to the side to rest on his chest. A very _strong_ chest. With washboard abs. I don't even know how many packs this guy carries. However many, it's freakin amazing. Who knew the male body could be so extremely hot?

Stop it. This isn't a time to be admiring his _body_. You're suppossed to make him feel better.

But then again, who says I can't make _myself_ feel better too? It's a win-win situation here.

His arms go around me, pressing my body closer to his. His chin rests near my temple, as we're both locked tightly in the embrace.

"See? Hugging a taller person feels better," he says after a few minutes into my hair.

I can't help but smile. "A hug is a hug, Oliver. It feels the same with everyone."

"That's not true. With a shorter person, my back hurts because I have to bend. I like this hug. It feels nice."

It right fucking does.

I could do this forever. Seriously. Who knew having a man in my arms could feel so incredibly good? It makes me feel gooey. Is that even a term? Okay, I know I can't think straight right now. But come on! This feels nice. It's true. He's right, it feels nice to hug a tall person. Or you know, just Oliver. Oliver Wood and his hot abs and ripped back and bumpy arms and amazingly nice chest...

Don't get turned on there. _Geez_.

Hey, where's he going? Oh, okay, nevermind, He's just pulling away to look at me.

Good god, he's looking at me. Okay, don't panic. There's no need to panic. There's no need to even feel this nervous. Why do I feel nervous? It's just Oliver, you've known him for practically half your life. Okay, actually, you have known him for exactly half your life. So there. There's no need to panic. Don't be such a dork.

I am _such_ a _dork_.

"Why're you staring at me?" I blurt, completely self-conscious.

"No reason," he murmurs, with a lazy smile on his face. "Why, do you feel uncomfortable?"

"No," I say too quickly. But he catches it.

"Maybe if you looked at me you wouldn't be uncomfortable anymore."

"No, it'll just make me more nervous."

"Why?"

I don't know. Do you ever get all self conscious and twitchy when you know somebody is focusing all their attention at you and you know it? That's what's getting to me now.

"Tell me why you're nervous," he says, playing with a strand of hair. "It's just the two of us here anyway."

"And a house elf."

"Who's upstairs relaxing."

"You mean cleaning."

"Whatever suits her. So tell me, Kates."

I cringe at the nickname. "I don't like it."

"Why?"

"Because it sounds stupid, and I don't understand why people can't just say the last syllable of my name. Or any other name for that matter."

"That's deep."

"You're so weird, Oliver," I laugh, hitting him lightly on the arm.

"So are you going to tell me?" he asks, rubbing my arms.

"I feel stupid."

"Don't worry, everybody's a stupid person."

"Fine! I'll look at you!" I cry. With all the braveness I could muster, I give him a quick glance. See? I did it.

"That wasn't even a look. It was like... the speed of light."

"It was a look."

"It doesn't count."

"Oliver, I just feel really awkward - "

But before I have time to finish my sentence, he tilts my chin up so we're eye to eye. How creepy. And how interesting. I've never noticed his eye-colour before. Dark, rich brown with flecks of hazel. Kind of like that muggle chocolate bar with the caramel inside. Gosh, what a time to be thinking of chocolate.

Well, I guess I am kind of hungry... But let's go back to his eyes. Such pretty eyes.

Screw it. I just want to feel his body again.

"I really like your abs."

Oh my _god_, did I just_ say_ that?

"_No_!" I slightly push him back a bit, and feel myself redden. "I didn't just say that - ! Okay, that was a _mistake_, you didn't hear that... ugh I'm such a loser."

I can hear him laughing at me. "Is that a compliment I've just receive from you? Because if so, that's the first."

Oh god...

I continue to groan as his laughter dies down and he grabs me back. "_You like my abs_," he says in a singsong voice.

What do I say? What do I _say_? I'm never going to live this moment down. For my entire life, he'll always taunt me with that one remark. Why did I have to say it? Why do I not have control over everything that comes out of my mouth?

Why does he have to have such a perfect body? Merlin, things would be so much more simple if he was gangly.

Great. This is just great. Wonderful. Everything is just fucking wonderful. You just totally screwed yourself over, Katie. _Good job_.

"You're going to make fun of me, aren't you," I say, my hands on my hips. "You're going to tell everyone that I think you've got fab abs."

"Sure, I'll make fun of you," he says, hooping his arms between mine. "But why tell everyone you like my abs? They might get jealous of you. Since you're the only one allowed near them."

"Aren't you sweet," I tell him sarcastically.

"Are you going to kiss me yet? Because I've been waiting patiently for the last ten minutes."

I gape at him. "Oliver, what the hell!"

"I was just wondering," he shrugs, looking a bit disappointed. "But you know, if you want to just stand here and talk, I've got no problem with it."

"Why do men always think about these things?"

"These... _things_...?"

"Nevermind."

"Okay, so are you going to kiss me yet?"

I roll my eyes at him. "Honestly, Oliver. Did you invite me here hoping to get a kiss out of me?"

"Yes," he asnwers with a straight face. Okay, so maybe that was his motive. Alright, still, men are pigs.

"Why do_ I_ have to kiss you? Why can't _you_ kiss me?"

"Because I went for it the first time."

"What's your point?"

"It's your turn now."

"But I'm not the one who wants to kiss you."

"Fine, I'll do it then." And with that, he pulls me closer and plants one on me.

How very demanding this bloke. Ah well, at least he knows what he's doing. Actually, he _really_ knows what he's doing. Compared to those other guys I've done this with, I can safely say that this is one of the best I've ever had.

And - ! _Okay,_ so I guess this is getting more intense than I figured. Afterall, he's just wrapped an arm around my waist and put his hand in my hair. How lovely. And his lips are incredibly smooth - a bonus, since most men have... gross mouths.

Maybe I shouldn't be thinking about gross mouths while he's kissing me...

See? There. Now I'm enjoying it. And here I thought that kissing guys were fun, but kissing _this_ guy is exhilerating! I don't even want to come up for air -

"_Nice._"

Well, moment's ruined. Thanks a bunch to my fucking stomach. And my hunger. Honestly! Why did it have to contract now? _Now_? At such a_ crucial_ moment! I curse myself! No, I curse myself for not eating in the afternoon.

"Sorry," I say sheepishly, biting my lower lip. Which is a bit swollen due to a few moments ago. But that's gone now. Because of my stupid stomach. God, why do we even _have_ stomachs? They should be removed from the entire digestive systems. I don't care, the food will just go to the intestines. If we had no stomachs, they wouldn't growl in the middle of _the hottest kiss_ I've_ ever_ had and wreck the atmosphere.

"You could've told me you were hungry," he chuckles, turning around to grab a bottle of frying oil. "So technically, it's my fault for not feeding you."

"I'm really sorry," I tell him, scrunching up my face in remorse. "See? I told you I'm a loser."

"It's okay. If_ you're_ a loser, then _I'm_ a loser."

- - - - - - - -

"Oliver, can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

"No, I meant an actual question?"

"You just did. But sure, ask me something else."

"Did you really go to a Seer?"

"Would I lie to you?"

"Probably not."

I remain silent as I digest the fact that he actually went to a Seer. He actually went to a _Seer_.

A _Seer_. Come on. I never knew he actually believed in that kind of mumbo jumbo. I mean, that stuff's completely insane. It's not true. Why would it be true? Obviously, the Seer was ripping him off for his money. Not that he'd care since he's got so much of it anyhow...

"Are you enjoying your food?" he asks, swallowing a bite. "You're not touching much of it.

Truth is, is qutie delicious. "Yes, I'm enjoying my food, Oliver."

"But you're hardly eating. Are you feeling okay?"

I give him a nod, but it doesn't seem as if he buys it. Maybe I should ask him about the Seer. Divination always creeped the shit out of me anyway.

"Oliver, can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead," he says, raising an eyebrow. "If it's about girth, I'll just save you the embarassment and tell you that you'll be pleased."

_What_? Holy_ shit_, that was so _not_ what I was going for!...

Actually, it's better than what I was going for. Good girth, eh? No, stop it! You shouldn't be thinking about the lenght of his manhood right now! Geez, Katie. Don't be such a slew.

"Why are you giggling?"

My eyebrows snap up. Good god, did I just giggle _out loud_? Man, I really _am_ an embarassment to myself. Geez, why would anyone want me?

"Nothing!" I reply, shaking my head. "And um... my question wasn't about your... _ahem_... you know."

He gives me a smirk. "No, I don't know what you're referring to."

Evil, evil,_ evil_ man. "Your penis!" I shriek, flushing hard. "Your _penis_! I'm talking about your _penis_!"

"You are?" he asks me, wiggling his eyebrows.

"_No_!" I say, hitting myself on the head. "I mean to says.. I wasn't referring to your penis when I ask you if I could ask you a question. I'm not talking about your penis."

"Oh alright," he says, shrugging. "So what'd you want to ask me about?"

I roll my eyes at him, taking a sip of water. "I wanted to ask about the Seer."

"But you already did."

"I asked if you actually went to see one. Now I'm asking about the trip."

"The trip went fine, if you don't count the fact that I accidentally broke a vase when she was giving me a palm reading and I freaked out."

I give my steak a violent stab. "Why'd you go to a Seer?"

"Are you angry that I went to a Seer?"

"No?"

"You sure stabbed your steak pretty hard."

"It's how I eat it. Now please, answer me."

"The team thought it might be fun to check out their futures and dragged me along with them."

"Oh." And here I thought he went to one out of pure curiosity.

"I was curious anyway," he says, as if reading my mind. "If someone asked you if you wanted to see into your future, you'd say yes."

I suppose I would. "And the Seer told you that I'm to marry you."

"Correct."

My eyes narrow at him. "You asked her to check out _my_ future?" I ask, my voice with clear suspicion. "You just decided to check up on what _my_ life would turn out to be - "

"Don't be ridiculous, Katie. I could never do that." He takes a bite of his mushrooms. "First of all, I could never invade your privacy. Secondly, even if I wanted to, I couldn't ask about you. The Seer can only predict futures of the person she is with, and since you weren't there, I got nothing. I just got my fortune told."

"And your future is that you're going to marry me and have three kids? _Seriously_?"

I watch him swallow slowly and swish some water in his mouth. "No," he says slowly, swalloing his drink. "Not _technically_."

"What do you mean _'not technically_'?

He raises an eyebrow at me. "Do you really want to know?"

"Well, considering the fact that I'm somehow part of it, yes, I'd really like to know."

"Alright then. She didn't exactly say I'm going to marry _you_. She just said I'd marry a tall brunette that worked for the Wizarding Government. And she also said that my future wife has a phobia to owls."

I snort. "So it's _not_ about me."

"Why not?"

"Because, Oliver! _Because_! There are _tons_ of tall brunettes at the Ministry. And I'm not afraid of owls."

"Yeah, you are," he chuckles, wiping his mouth.

"Prove it!"

"Gladly. Remember that time when you helped me pick out Mortimer? Eeylops scared you senseless. And you were all afriad of their beady red eyes and the flapping of their wings. Plus, you completely freaked out when I asked you to hold him."

"That's not true!" I claim, my lower lip jutting out. "I have two olws of my own. I'm not afriad of them."

"Katie, you got them at the Menagerie, where there are hardly any owls. You wouldn't be afraid if there were only six altogether in the place."

"Fine! But still, it doens't mean you're going to marry me. All that information is invalid."

"That information might. But the clue I've kept from you is."

"What's that?"

"The Seer said that I'd marry someone with the name of an instrument."

"I'm not an_ instrument_!" I scoff, eating my salad. "How dense are you - "

"Katie _Bell._ How dense are_ you_?"

Since I cannot seem to find an answer to this statement, I think it would be most wise to keep my mouth shut.

"And about the question of kids," he continues, eyeing me with satisfaction, "she didn't exactly say we'd have _three_ kids. She just mentioned three pregnancies that we'll face."

"_Three_?" I exclaim, coming out of my muteness. "_Three_? Three times pregnant? Three morning sicknesses? Three times in intense labour? Three times pushing a football out of me?"

"Well, don't believew in it all," he says thickly, stuffing his mouth full of food. "Afterall, it only _is_ just a prediction. Who knows, we might have four kids. Or two. We might get married within a year or two, a three months. We might not get married at all - "

"Well, don't say_ that_," I tell him hastily, slumping into my chair. _Three pregnancies_? Now honestly, is that even reasonable?

"So you _do_ want to get married."

I look up at him. He's smirking at me again. And he looks smoking hot right now.

"Oliver, - "

"No, don't say anything." He holds up a finger for my silence. "Quite the contrary, I won't make any further comments to make you feel uncomfortable. On the other hand, I'll just remain content with the hope that maybe one day, you might want something with me."

A smile half heartedly at him. "It's not that I don't want anything - "

"It's okay, Katie. You don't need to explain yourself. I don't mind. Whatever decision you make in the future, I just hope it's the one you want the most."

"But Oliver - "

"Now eat your food, before it gets cold."

He stops speaking as he looks down at his plate to continue eating. Great. Now I feel bad. And I don't even know why.

He's _wrong_. Of course he's wrong. He's got it so incredibly wrong. Of course I want a relationship with him. Of course I do. Maybe not right now at the moment or anything, but I do.

But why not now? What's wrong with having one now? He seems completely ready for a relationship. Isn't it usually the male who's got committment issues? God, what is wrong with me? Why am I being such a ass? And honestly, what _is_ wrong with having a relationship now? Nobody's against it.

Nobody but yourself.

Okay, stop that. I need to think.

Why am_ I_ not the one ready for a relationship? You know, last year, if somebody asked me out on a date, my immediate answer would be yes. No matter how nasty they were, how big of a scumbag they were, or just how incompatible they were, I would say yes so willingly. What the hell happened?

Okay, let's take this back to when I was sixteen years old. Every sixteen year old has the 'perfect man' plastered all over her mind. What was mine? Tall, muscly, dark haired, tans good, strong, helpful, witty, challenging and clever. Oh yeah, and good looking.

And here he is sitting in front of me. And I'm not even taking advantage of him. I'm certified insane here. Why don't I want a relationship with Oliver? He's everything I've ever wanted. He's everythinng and more. And I'm not throwing myself on him.

Maybe it's the fame.

No I take that back. I don't know what it is. I haven't had anything, not any sign or symbol that screams _'Alert! Alert! Perfect Man!_' so far.

"Look Oliver," I start, playing around with my mashed potatoes. "This might sound so stupid and over-used. But I'm going to say it anyway, because I'm actually being honest here. It's me, not you."

"I was wondering when you were going to say that." He gives me a shrug and a smile. "Nothing I haven't expected from you anyway."

Don't get mad at the comment. Maybe it was just one of those comments where he didn't use his brain. Afterall, he_ is_ a jock. He plays quidditch, for Merlin's sake. Probably too many balls to the head. "Oliver, I like you. I really do."

He looks up startled. "Excuse me... _what_?"

"I like you," I say, placing my hand over his. "I'm not lying about that either. I do, Oliver. I really _do_ like you. But there's this feeling - "

"_There it is_," he mutters, rolling his eyes, but he doesn't take his hand away.

"There's this feeling that I'm getting. And it's telling me to wait. I don't know why, but I have a feeling that if we wait, things would turn out for the better."

"Or what you mean is, things won't turn into anything at all."

"_No_, that's not what I mean. I like you, okay? Please get that into your head. But I just don't feel that we should be starting anything yet. I know you're ready. I know that because you've given me... so many fricken hints!" He laughs quietly under his breath. Good, this means he's not mad. "And really, Oliver. I have looked into the hidden meanings of those hints.. even though there isn't much of a secret to any of them. Alright, but still. I'd love to be in a relationship with you, don't get me wrong. I really would. I just... need more time to sort things out, yeah?"

"Yeah," he answers softly. He turns his hand around to grasp mine. "Yeah."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Half an hour ago, I was practically dying. _Now_ look at me! I'm completely _fine_!"

And completely two months too early for labour.

St. Mungo's hostpial. I've been in here twice, two months in total. And still, after becoming so used to it, it still freaks me out.

"_Oh Merlin, oh Merlin, oh Merlin, oh Merlin_..." That would be Fred, freaking out more than me. It's surprising. Afterall, he _is_ the baby's father. A few weeks ago, he was totally pumped for this baby. And now, here he is, sitting stiffy erect in a chair, clutching his head, and rocking back and forth. Thank goodness Alicia, sitting beside him and uttering sweet nothings - well, sweet _soothings_ - in his ear.

Oh yeah. That reminds me. Alicia's still a bit distressed. I just had a talk with her an hour ago, after arriving at the hospital. I apologized for blaming the ordeal on her, she's explained herself, all that jazz. But it still seems as though Jack's a big jerk, since he dumped her too.

"Do you need anything?" I ask Angelina, rushing to her side. "Water, juice, cookies - "

"_No eating_!" Fred shrieks from the other side of the room, his face completely red. "Don't you _dare_ feed my wife!"

"Ice chips would be fine," Angelina replies, smiling kindly at me. "Don't mind Fred. He's just being silly - early labour and all. I've told him everything's going to be fine. I don't think he's believed me yet."

"Ice chips it is," I announce, sliding off my chair and walking out the room. "I'll be back soon. Don't sweat about this, Angelina. It's going to be all over soon."

"I'll come with you!" George offers, leaping from his seat. He walks out the door with me.

We make a left turn at the end of the hall. "George, is Fred okay?"

"Just being an idiot, so normal as always."

"Really, George. Be serious."

"You're always telling me to be serious. Most of the time, I actually am."

"Key word; _most_."

"He'll be fine," George says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Fred's always freaked out about things. Well, okay, that was a lie. But this is his kid. Of course he's freaking out. Isn't he allowed to be freaking out? Angelina's a bit early on her due date anyway, isn't she?"

"He just seems so stressed."

"He'll get over it. Or at least, he better get over it. This is his _kid_."

"I suppose."

"New topic. How's Oliver?"

"I don't know. He was off on tour during his birthday and all. I haven't seen him since that dinner I had with him."

"When was that again?"

"Almost four weeks ago. So I guess that makes it a month."

"Right. Anything developing between you two?"

I heave a sigh, sitting down on one of the hospital benches. "Unfortunately not."

"Should we really be sitting down?" George asks, lowering himself cautiously onto the bench. "I mean, we're suppossed to be getting Angelina some ice chips."

"She's got two cups, thanks to Alicia. I just needed an excuse to get out of the room. And she understood. And let you come with me."

After a moment of silence, he turns to me. "Katie, are you feeling okay? You haven't exactly said much today."

"No."

"I don't think it's Angelina's labour that's gotten into you. Sure, it's a big event, but it's not it. I haven't seen you in three weeks, and the time I did happen to see you, you were practically silent. What's up, kiddo?"

I shrug, crossing my arms. "I dunno, George. I just don't know. I did, but I don't anymore."

"Well, that's what I'm here for," he says, nudging me with his elbow. "To talk to. Hello, _best friend_ here? Can't believbe you forgot about me."

"I didn't."

"Then talk to me."

"I have too many problems, George. I don't know how to approach them. I can't solve them, and everytime I try, it just gets worse."

"Name one."

"Jack."

"Who's Jack?" George asks, his brow furrowed. "You have a friend named _Jack_?"

"Nasuada's ex-boyfriend."

"Oh." I take a side-long glance at him, and he's got a disgusted face on. "What about him?"

"I'd tell you, but I'm sworn to secrecy. It's a girl thing."

"Understood."

"And then there's my brother's broken engagement." _Which I'm secretly happy about._

"Yes, well. Your brother's always been a tad odd."

"_We're_ a tad odd," I say seriously, slumping against the wall. "Whatever."

"And I'm guessing the last one's Oliver."

"Ever the brilliant one, Weasley."

"You know it. Now what's wrong with him this time?"

"Astonishingly, it's not him, it's me."

"_No_!" he exclaims in mock amazement. clutching his chest. "Get out of town!"

"Really!" I say, whacking him lightly on the arm. "It's true, George. It's me, not him. I like him."

"Finally."

"But I don't feel that... I don't know. I can't explain it. It's lik some sort of kick."

"Like, a _physical_ kick?"

"No, I don't know. But whenver I feel something for someone, I get this kicking sensation that tells me '_there he is, the perfect guy_'. I haven't gotten that with Oliver, and after a month of thinking, I still don't know why. I mean, I'd like to have a relationship with him. No, scratch that. I _want_ to have a relationship with him."

"Let me get this straight." He sits up properly, turning his head to face me. "So what you're telling me is, you are absolutely _smitten_ about Oliver, but you're still unsure on whether or not to have a relationship with him because you haven't got a kicking sensation, but you still want him."

"Exactly!" I smile helplessly at him. "Exactly."

"Katie, has anyone ever told you how complicated you are?"

"_You_ have."

"I'll say it again; you're too complicated."

"I want him, George. I really do," I say earnestly. "But... I don't know. He's just..._ I don't know_! He's up there on the scale. He's so high above the scale, the scale is a dot. But for some reason, he still hasn't reached me. I need a _sign_. Any kind of sign. The tiniest sign that sets him apart from all the other men."

"Maybe you're demanding too much of him. I mean, let's be realistic. He's only human. And _male_. And speaking on behalf of all men in the world, sometimes we just _can't _give you gals everything."

"No, I suppose not." I stand up slowly from the bench, stretching my arms. "Is he coming?"

"Oliver?"

"_No_, I meant Ludo bagman. Of course Oliver, is he coming?"

"Yeah, I sent him an owl."

"What if he's too busy to get it?" I ask, as we both head back to Angelina's room. "He's on tour anyway. In _Finland_. I sent him a birthday greeting, but I never got a reply."

"Neither did I, so don't take it to heart." We turn back into the Baby Hall, as George puts an arm around me. It's always nice to know I can lean on his shoulder. "But this is Fred and Angelina's_ baby_. It's bigger than his birthday. I'm pretty positive he'll show up."

"Maybe."

"Positively."

We walk the remainder of the way in comforting silence, arm in arm. I _love_ George. If there's anybody in the world I love the most, it has got to be George. I love Nasuada too. She's my best friend, but with George, there's something there that I don't have with Nasuada. Maybe it's the trust that I have with him, since I've known him much longer. But whatever it is, I love George.

"Lunch next tuesday on the loser that Fred's having a mental breakdown."

"George, we left him in the _middle_ of a mental breakdown."

"Fine. That's he probably mumbling to hismelf about how he should've gotten his balls yanked out so he wouldn't have any more kids."

"You're on, Weasley."

"He's doing it right this second. If I know my brother, he'll be cursing his nuts off while I speak."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Fred's gone completely mad - well, ballistic would be the better choice of words, Alicia's finally given up on trying to get him to relax, since it's dawned on her that it would never work in a million years, George's in a corner, playing with a Sparking Yoyo - '_Sparks the Fingers with Each Bounce!_' - and still, Angelina's jolly good.

I think the charm that the nurse put on her was a drug. There is no other way to explain that zenned out smile on her face. I mean, I'm muggle born! I _know_ what marjuana is. She's got the marajuana smile on. Or, in magical terms, the '_Pain-Reliever Smile_'. Bullshit.

I'm sitting beside Angelina, having a friendly chat, feeding her ice chips and massaging her shoulders.

"Katie, is Oliver going to show up yet?" Alicia asks, looking up from her magazine. She's far away from George, as the two still aren't talking to each other. Although, they have called a temporary truce, due to Angelina's labour, and the fact that they'll be in the same room during the entire procedure.

"_I don't know_," I answer dumbly, sitting hunched on my chair. _When_ are they going to stop asking me that question? For the past four hours, all people have asked me was, '_Have you seen Oliver?_' or '_Has he showed yet?_' or '_When is he coming, he's missing all the action!_'

Merlin, I'm going to shoot myself if I hear one more comment on that damned quidditch player.

"He'll be here, won't he?" Angelina asks, sipping out of the straw from the cup I'm holding for her. "George owled him over six hours ago..."

"He'll turn up sometime," George calls, wincing from the shock of the yoyo. "I doubt he'd miss something this big."

"Katie, you really don't have to keep doing everything for me," Angelina murmurs sleepily. "You've done enough already. I can manage reaching over for a cup of water."

"Besides, it's Fred's job to be the servant," George says, flicking the yoyo at his brother. "Go on then, you idiot. Help out your wife! She's carrying your child after all!"

Fred grunts, rubbing a spot on his head. "Sorry, what?"

"Go help out your wife, for Merlin's sake! Don't be such a bumbling fool!"

And with that, Fred immediately rushes over, pusheds me off my chair, and takes my place in servicing Angelina. "Gee," I mutter crossly, still on the floor. "You could've at least said 'excuse me' - "

"_Did I miss anything_?"

All five heads turn to the door to find Oliver barging in, laden with teddies and looking absolutely harassed. His cheeks are all red from what appears to be lipstick stains, his hair's a complete mess, and his clothes looked tugged on and dishevelled.

"What happened to you?" George asks bluntly, continuing to play with the toy. "Did you get mobbed or what?"

"Something like that," Oliver groans, leaning his back against the door. "Sorry about coming so late. What with the play-off and all..."

"Oh!" Angelina exclaims. My eyes pop. Oh good lord, she's in pain - oh nevermind. She's just surprised at Oliver. "You didn't have to miss such an impotant game, Oliver. I mean, I'm just in labour - "

"And I wouldn't miss it for all the games in the world," he replies, a little breathless and still clutching the armful of bears.

"Here, let me help you," Alicia says, walking over to him, relieving him of stuffed bears. "Where'd you get all these anyway?"

"Fans," he tells us, plopping down on Fred's vacated seat - which was supposed to be _my_ seat, but what the hell. "In a rush to get here, I forgot my diguise, or at least a guard. Therefore, many people recognized me, blocked me, went to the gift store on the first floor, bought me_ these_ - " he gestures to the bears on the table - "and wouldn't let me leave until I signed things for them, or gave them a hug. I actually arrived here an hour and a bit ago, but there was traffick."

He smiles apologetically to both Fred and Angelina. I notice that he's still holding onto one of the bears - a big white one that looks quite cute. Maybe he fell in love with one of the fans and decided to keep that one bear as a token.

"Do you need me to take that one too?" Alicia offers, gesturing to the bear in his hands.

"Oh, no, this one's for the baby," Oliver says, walking over to to the bedside to put it down. "I got this in Finland, when I rushed to come back here - "

"_Don't step on me_!" I shriek, shielding my face. His leg is half raised and about to be let down on one of my legs.

"And hello to you too, Katie," he greets, smiling down at me. "Didn't see you there, actually. Sorry about that. Here, let me give you a hand." Instead of taking my hand that I've offered to him, he lefts me up completely to a standing position. After putting the bear beside Angelina, he asks me, "What were you doing on the floor?"

I shoot Fred an evil glare. "He pushed me off the chair. And after all the samaritan work I've done for his wife, he had the nerve to _literally push me_ out of the chair."

"Ah, don't be such a baby, Katie," George tells me, flicking the yoyo at me, mid-bounce. "I'll conjure you up a chair so we're all even." He raises his wand to make a squishy arm chair for me. "Now you can't complain. The soft padding might do that bottom of yours well, after the harsh landing you did a minute ago."

"_Funny_," I hiss, sitting down on the arm chair.

Oliver comes over to sit beside me on Fred's abandoned chair. "So your parents sent me a birthday gift."

"_What_?" I cry, bolting up from my position. "They _what_?"

"They gave me something," he laughs, pulling that something out of his robe pocket. "I don't know what it is though." He hands me the gift.

Is that why mum borrowed my owl, Brown for? I used Scoop to deliver Oliver's gift. I was wonderring why mum asked to borrow an owl. Both my parents haven't owled me since I left school. They'd just get Lance to do it, since he owns his own owl. Of course, my brother thinks it's neat to own an owl for whatever scientific reasons he has.

I take a look at the present sitting in the palm of my hand. It's a cellular mobile. My parents got Oliver a _cellular mobile_? Honestly! They know he's not a muggle! What on _earth _would he do with a _cellular mobile_, when he doesn't even know what a _telephone_ is?

"What is it?" Oliver asks curiously, peering at the gift in my hand.

"It's a _cell phone_," I answer, shaking my head. "My parents gave you a _cell phone_."

"I don't get it."

"Me neither."

"Cell... _phone_?" George stows away the yoyo as he walks over to us, taking the phone off my palm. "I know that word, _phone_. It rings a bell."

"It's a_ portable telephone_," I tell him, rolling my eyes.

"Your parents got Oliver a_ fellytone_?" George giggles, handing back the phone to Oliver. "But he's not even a _muggle_!"

"It's not '_fellytone_', George. It's_ telephone_. And I guess so. There you have it, Oliver. You've received a cell phone."

Merlin, I am _so _jealous right now. My parents would never think to give me such an awesome gift. Year after year, it's some stupid bath set. Not that bath sets are any bad, but compared to a brand new _cell phone_ - ! I'm so mad!

"What do I_ do_ with it?" Oliver asks, putting it back in his pocket. "I've never heard of a fellytone, let alone a _cell phone_ - "

"_Telephone_," I reply irritably, rolling my eyes. "And you can't do anything with it, because you don't have a cell phone plan. You wouldn't get one because it's a muggle thing for communication, and none of your friends own one."

"Maybe you all should get one," Oliver says, his voice filled with excitement. "Then we can all have one and communicate!... How do you _communicate_ with these things?"

"You talk into it."

Silence. And then -

"You've _got_ to be kidding me!"

"Who in their right minds would want to talk to a block of _plastic_?"

"Obviously they don't work, muggles can't be smart enough to do something as brilliant as this!"

"Do people actually pay for these things? How much?"

"It's amazing, how one can communicate with another using this puny device."

All five of them are laughing, and pointing at me as if it were the biggest joke ever told to them. I grumble to myself, crossing my arms and legs.

"Honestly, Katie. How do you use it?"

"You talk into it!"

"... _Right_."

I decide not to answer. When it comes to muggle technology, I can never win with these guys.

"Did you get _my_ gift?" I ask him, admist all the remaining laughter.

"Yeah, I did," he replies, smiling brightly. He takes off his robe to reveal the off-white sweater I bought for him at Barney's - his '_favourite_'.

"Do you like it?"

"Of course I do. Actually, my whole team does. The only way I can get them from taking it from me is to wear it. I love this thing!" He pats the sweater and picks imaginary lint off it. "But I do have one problem with it."

"What?"

"I've never heard of _Barney's_."

"Oliver, we've been through this already," I groan, thumping my head against the arm chair. "I refuse to have another discussion about muggle stores with you."

"Alright then," he says, unfazed. "By the way, the coach said I've been taking too much time off practice."

"Why?" Angeliuna asks from her bed.

"Oh, it's nothing." His tone tells us to back off in a polite way.

"But he let you see me," Angelina says, ignoring his comment. "How'd you get _that_ to happen?"

"Well, when it comes to these personal problems, the coach is pretty understanding. That, and I just sorta took off in the middle of his lecture for me on missing too many practices, resulting in poor performances during games."

"Seriously?" Fred says. Everybody peers at him with mild surprise. It's the first thing he's said so far, after pushing me off the chair.

"No, my performances aren't poor. He's just ticked off that I'm missing practices."

"I remember a time that whenever _we_ missed a practice, you'd be raising hell to us," Alicia murmurs, raising a perfectly arched brow at him. I really do admire her eyebrows. They're so _perfect_.

"I'm not sorry for _that_." He smiles toothily at us. "It was the only way to get some discipline into you folks anyhow."

"We had enough discipline," George retorts, rolling his eyes at Oliver. "But anyway, what were we talking about again? I forgot."

Before any of us gets the chance to answer him, the door creaks open. A middle-aged witch comes in, tuttering under her breath, going over to Angelina.

"I hope you're not stressing too much, lass," he says, feeling her forehead. "You seem to be in alright condition... any pains?"

"Nope!" Angelia replies cheerily, smiling her suunny smile at the witch. "I'm feeling absolutely fine!"

"Are you dehydrated?"

"Not at all!"

"So everything's okay?"

"Perfect!"

"You've still got a few centimetres to go before the birthing procedure," the witch says, peering at Angelina over her spectables. "Actually, you've only dialated two. Maybe in a few hours you'll be rady."

"It's been practically a day," moans Fred, hiding a yawn. "Isn't it _over_ yet?"

The witch looks severely at Fred. "Being male, I don't expect you to understand much about the miracle of birth."

"Oh, no," says Angelina, giving Fred a pat on the hand, "he's just worried sick about me and the baby. He's completely fine, albeit scared senseless."

Instead of answering, the witch chooses to raise an eyebrow at her, and then looks around the room. "I don't think a crowd would do you any good, Mrs Weasley."

"I insist that they stay here."

"And I must be respectful to the hospital rules. It only pemits three guests at once."

"We've been gone past the limit for hours already," Alicia tells the witch, looking confused. "We haven't been spoken to about it so far..."

"And now you have," the witch answers, looking disdainfully upon Alicia. "Now go on, only three - "

"But - "

"_Now_!" barks the witch, which causes me to jump in my seat. She marches out of the room, giving us an expectant look.

"I'm guessing Fred stays," George says, walking towards the door. "I'll leave. Katie, I think you should come too."

"Okay," I answer uncertainly, following him out the door.

"Oliver, you stay," George tells him, as Oliver is half way off his seat. He immediately plops back down, with an inquiring face. "You've basically just arrived here. Have a chat with Angelina, Fred and Alicia. They haven't seen you in ages. And I think Angelina wouldn't mind the company of a male who isn't squeaking at all the wrong moments." He gives his brother one last look of pity, and grabs my hand to bring us outside.

I wait patiently as George leads us back to the bench we so previously occupied what seems like weeks ago. Having been stuck in a room with a high pregnant lady, her irritable, somewhat bitchy best friend, and a psychotic figure of a husband, that room was starting to make me feel claustrophobic. Which is weird, because I've never experienced a sense of claustrophobia before. Well, I guess I learned something new about myself today. I have one more thing to add to my list of fears. Goody.

"So he showed up," George finally says, as he sits down on the bench, patting the seat beside him.

"Thanks," I mutter, taking the seat. "I didn't think he was going to."

"Well, you know him. He's always showing up at the most uncalled for times."

"Yeah," I smile slightly, remember the time he first showed up at my cubicle almost a year ago. "He does, doesn't he?"

"Good man, that Oliver Wood."

"When he's not being arrogant, that's for sure."

"He's self-assured. Confident. Arrogance comes with confidence.

"Have you talked to Alicia today?" I ask, wanting to get off the topic. Four hours with nothing to do in one tiny hospital rooms often gives the mind much time to wander into such matters. Matters such as where he might happen to take me next. If he really _would_ want to cook for me every day. What it'd be like to kiss him again and again...

See? I'm with company, and I'm _still _doing it. What is _wrong_ with me?

"No," he says flatly, bringing a leg up. "Why should I?"

"Surely you're not mad still?" I give him a look, but receive one that tells me he is. "George, you can't go on hating her forever - "

"Bet I can."

"_No_, you can't." I give him a small shove, which does nothing since he's much stronger than I am. "You can't because I won't let you."

He raises an eyebrow in half shock. "Oh? And why not?"

"Because! Remember when you had that talk with me about not throwing good things away?"

"Um... no, not really. It probably wans't important anyway."

"Well, it was important to _me_!" I flick his knee. "And you said that I shouldn't throw something good away - "

He gives me a severe look. "Do you really think she was good for me?"

Obviously not. "Okay, it's not that you guys are good when you're _with_ each other - "

"We're just good as _friends_?" he offers sarcastically, biting on his tongue. "Leave it, Katie. You can't change my mind - "

"But you_ were_ good as friends."

"No, we weren't."

"_Yes_, you were," I say forcefully, before he can answer back. "Remember back in Hogwarts? You two were so close - "

"Because we liked each other - "

"Okay, but back in second year. You two were such good friends. And don't interrupt me, but listen. You two were good as friends. If it weren't for her, you probably wouldn't be as you are now. She made you laugh, and you made her... well, I'm not sure about that one. But honestly, George. If it weren't for Alicia, you wouldn't have had any relationships in school. And you have to admit, she gave you some experience."

He stares at me with a pale face. "How did _you_ know we had some experiences?"

"Please, George. It's obvious to everyone that something happened between the both of you, pre- or post-graduation. Don't even try to deny it."

After giving me another look, he glances around the room with shifty eyes, finally turning his attention back to me. "Have _you_ ever had any... experiences?"

Well, this is going to be a doozy. "George, honestly - "

"Aw, come on! I told you - !"

"You told me _nothing_! I guessed. And I'm right!"

"Well, fine, but I think it's fair that we both know who each other experienced with - "

"You've experienced with way more girls than Alicia, pal."

"Go on then, Katie! Tell! It's not like I'd gossip to anyone else - especially Oliver."

I immediately go red. "Why should I care if _Oliver_ knows? Isn't it obvious that he's had tons of experience with other birds too?"

"Are you sure?" George asks, a bit of a frown showing. "I swear, he's only done like... three of them - "

"What do you mean, _only three_? Isn't that like - really out there?"

He looks at me blankly. "Erm... I don't think you're asking the right person."

"Okay, that's not the point. I don't care how many Oliver's had - "

"Have you had any at all?"

"Of course I have!" I cry, flushing furiously. "Stop quizzing me on this! I'm not comfortable - "

"Who was it?" George asks, completely animated. "Come on, Katie. Tell me!"

I look away from him. "Stop asking me."

As he remains silent, I feel my brain working against me again. How does he even know that Oliver's had three girls already? Three! What is that, a magic number? Three is already a great experience! And what does it show about him? He's loose! He doesn't care! It's not something special!

It's not that I'm a prude or anything. But really! It's not a gift that you grant every single flipping person! Geez, _three_? Really now, what does he do, treat his girlfriends like nothing? How could he do that? And what about _me_? I'm probably going to be nothing special to him, he's had three already, so basically I'll just suck compared to everyone else. I mean, he's dated _famous_ people! Famous people are bound to know every single trick in the book. I'm just a... noob.

And then he won't like me anymore. Because I can't perform as well as everyone else. And that'll just prove how shallow he really is. And then he'll tell every magazine and newspaper in the world that his former classmate ex-girlfriend totally lacked in bed.

And then that will be the end of me.

"Did you hear me?" I feel my shoulder getting slapped, as I turn to my right. "You're still with me, right?"

"What?" My eyes squint, as I give George a confused face. "Sorry, say that again?"

"I asked if you did it with that bloke back in the day."

I roll my eyes at him. "Yes, because that's who."

"Well, how do you honestly expect me to remember their names?" he asks incredulously, raising an eyebrow. "You went through 6 a week almost - "

"I did _not_!"

"That's sarcasm, if you didn't catch it. But to sum it off, you've been through many dates with many men. So tell me who you lost it to."

"No!"

"John Debson?"

"No, I'm not telling you - "

"Terrence Smith?"

"George, stop - "

"Alex Whatshisface?"

"Will you _stop_ - "

"I know!" He finally says, snapping his fingers at me. "It was Nathaniel Gomez, wasn't it? That good-looking foreign bloke!"

"Oh, will you give it a rest?" I cry, rubbing my eyes fiercely. "I don't want to talk about the loss of my virginity!"

"I was just curious - "

"Then tell yourself to stop being so damn curious because I'm not going to tell you! And how did we even get onto this subject? We're suppossed to be talking about you and Alicia - "

"Katie, Katie," he says, rubbing circles on my back, "as best friends, there are no subjects that we aren't suppossed to talk about. Everything is free for us to talk about. Now let's talk." He flashes me his Weasley smirk. "Now tell me, was it that Scott Bakefield?"

"Good grief, George!"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"She has enough ice chips!"

"No, she doesn't - she just finished another cup - "

"And she's got three more!"

"Will you two just shut up?"

That one was me. It seems as though Fred's still as uptight as before, with an even bigger stick up his ass. George doesn't seem to make things any better, as he encourages his twin to argue. Sadly, George is right, becaue Angelina_ does_ have three more cups of ice.

Speaking of Angelina, it's been another three hours. The Healer-witch lied. She said Angelina would be having her baby real soon. It's been _three sodding hours_! And she's only dialated half a centimetre. I can't stand it. Alicia and Oliver have just gone on their second break for a light snack. I've only been in here ten minutes and already I'm willing to kill myself.

"Settle down, settle down," Angelina calls, though she doesn't seem to mind much. She's still up in her woozy state, that lazy smile playing wistfully on her lovely face. Here she is, in labour, feeling nothing at all.

I walk over to the preggo, in hopes of starting up a good conversation. "How are you doing, Angelina?"

"I could ask you the same thing," comes the reply. "You look more stressed than I do. Or ever did, during this whole hospital thing."

It's probably because you were drugged and I wasn't. Oh, sorry - '_charmed_'. "I dunno. I feel tired, but restless at the same time."

"You could ask the Healers for something," she offers, lifting herself up onto the pillow. "I hear they've got a few good charms up their sleeves."

I bet they do. "No, it's nothing serious. Maybe I'm just over-excited?"

"Please, nobody's as excited as Fred."

We both look over to the grieving twin, who's pacing around with agitation, muttering to himsef.

"What's he saying?" I ask Angelina, taking care not to speak too louidly. "He's been like that this whole time. Are you sure he hasn't gone loopy?"

"Fred's always been loppy," scoffs Angelina, picking up a cup of ice chips. "I think you mean, why is he so fidgety? Maybe because it's just dawned on him that his childish ways miust come to a stop because he's expecting an offspring. Or maybe it's because he doesn't know anything about babies or how to take care of them."

"But he's got _you_!"

"Exactly. I don't know why he's being so weird. At the moment, I could care less because in a few hours, I'm going to be pushing something the size of a quaffle - maybe even larger - out of me. Now _that's_ pressure. Literally."

"Are you scared?" I ask her, leaning my arms on her bed. "It seems pretty painful. My mum says muggles have it harder, because their pain-relief methods aren't as great as ours..."

She gives me a crooked smile. "Of course I'm scared. I hate pain of any kind! But I can't do anything about it. I'm pregnant, I'm in labour, I'm about to give birth. I know this sounds so cheesy, but the pain doesn't really matter if I'm going to pop something good out of me, right?"

Pop something good. Now that's a line.

"Yeah."

I give her a reassuring smile, as the door bursts open. Everyone stops to stare at Alicia, marching proudly into the room.

"A Healer's just asked me out!" she announces, skipping her way to Angelina and me.

I look over at George, who's got an exagerrated eye-roll to her back. "That's... that's great, Alicia."

"It is, isn't it?" she says, her eyes shining at the two of us. "He's tall, handsome, and a _Healer_!"

"Which means you're just interested in his status," George says over her squealing. "Am I right?"

"No!" she answers lightly, not even looking at him. "Now's not the time for an argument, George. Don't piss me off, I'm too happy!"

"Oh, bugger this," I hear Goerge mutter the curse, walking out the door.

Angelina decides to ignore it. "So! Tell us about this Healer...!"

"Um! I'm going to go to the lav," I say, immediately rising from the chair. "Here, Alicia! Have a seat, I'll be back soon..."

"Oh... alright," she says oddly, slowly taking the seat. "I'll tell you about it later."

Yep.

I walk away, give Fred a wave which he doesn't seem to acknowledge, and step outside.

Where the hell could George be? And why's he so upset about her dating a Healer? Well, technically, she's not _dating_ a Healer, she just got asked out by one. But really, isn't he all anti-Alicia? What about Nasuada? He's suppossed to like _her_! He's not suppossed to let Alicia control his love-life! He's his own person. Unless he's still got feelings for her?

Man, since when did my friends have more complicated relationships than me? I'm suppossed to be the failure when it comes to love.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I'm sitting in the cafeteria with Oliver. I already sent him around the hospital to look for George. It's been a hopeless case.

"Of course he's upset, his ex-girlfriend just got asked out by someone," comes Oliver's voice, breaking into my thoughts. "Wouldn't _you_ be disappointed if your ex-boyfriend went out with someone?"

Actually, I've never really been phazed by any of that. "Not really," I shrug, shuffling my feet under the chair. "If we're not anything, why would it bother me?"

"Well, it bothers some people."

"But he's over her!" I protest, spraying some of my cranberry juice onto Oliver's face. "Oops - sorry - "

"It's alright," he breathes, calmly wiping the juice off his face. "And how would you know he's over her?"

I roll my eyes at him. "Of course he's over her, I would know. I'm his best friend, I know him better than Fred does even - "

"But not _completely_," Oliver says, raising an eyebrow. "No matter how well you know one person, you'll never_ fully_ know them, Katie. Maybe George still has some feelings - "

"He doesn't!"

" - buried very deep in him that he's afraid to let out - "

"Which he _doesn't_!"

" - that you don't know about."

"I don't believe it!" I tell him, crossing mya rms. "George is in love with Nasuada, he told me so - "

"Surely not in _love_," Oliver says with a slight laughter.

I bite my lower lip. "Okay, maybe it's not love, but it's close to it. Or, well, he really likes her at least. And I know she likes him, so don't you go saying that he should be with Alicia!"

"I didn't say anything about George and Alicia going out again. I'm just saying that maybe they still have unresolved feelings for each other."

It's false. Completely false. Of course Oliver wouldn't know what he's talking about. Sure, he's got the male genes, something in common with George. But I'm George's best friend. His_ best friend_! I would know way more than Oliver. Plus, I already know Alicia much better than he does. So he doesn't know what he's talking about.

"So enough of this, he's probably back home," Oliver says, wiping his mouth after his biscuit. "Shall we carry on then?"

"To where?" I ask glumly, slumping onto the table. "There's nothing to do. I've been here for ages, Oliver. I can't stand this place anymore!"

"What do you mean?"

I heave a great sigh. "I'm _sick_ of the hospital! I know I shouldn't be saying this. I'm happy for Angelina and Fred, I really am! But please, this place is the death of me. There's _nothing_ to do! I can't feed my owls or fish, I can't find any good reading material, the chairs are insanely stiff and erect, and I'm bored out of my _mind_!"

"You're not the only one," he mutters, leading me out of the dining room. "I've seen Fred nod off to sleep a couple of times. Alicia's just sitting there playing with her hair. George kills time by walking around with you or playing with his yoyo. And I just want to leave. But I can't."

And suddenly, I've got an idea. "Maybe we _can_ leave!"

"I should hope not," Oliver says, looking at me from the side. "What if something big happens and we miss it?"

"She's only dialated five centimetres within the past _nine hours_!"

He juts out his jaw. "Okay, fine. Maybe we can continue on with your brilliant plan."

"Exactly! And it's not like anyone's going to miss us, since they're so caught up in each other's lives."

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, looking around the floor. "I dunno Katie. It still seems a bit too adventurous to me. I mean, I know you're bored, and I'm bored. But honestly, I don't think we can do this to our friends."

What a fucking kill-joy. "Fine!" I cry exasperatedly. "Fine! But since you've dumped my plan, you're going to make one to keep us from going insane."

"We could just sit and talk."

"We _always_ do that," I point out, my hands on my hips. "Can't you think of something better?"

At this comment, he turns to me, wiggling his eyebrows with a smirk. I reply to his look with a stony face.

"Well, it's better than sitting and talking," Oliver says, grinning at me. "The offer still stands if you're interested."

"And even if I _were_ interested, how would we?"

"You're _serious_ - "

"Hypothetically."

"Oh." He looks a bit put out, but answers anyway. "This is a hospital, Katie. Hospitals are full of beds. We could totally do the deed."

I make a noise through my nose. "Come on Oliver. Let's go back into the room."

As I drag him by the sleeve, he mutters under his breath about soemthing along the lines of '_dozens of beds_', and '_only five centimetres!_'

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"That's my son! That little guy right there - my _son_!"

We - as in, Oliver, Alicia and I - smile warmly at Fred and Angelina. And their new baby boy.

Since she dialated to ten, the rest of us were anticipating the moment the kid would come. I've even lost count of the hours I've been in here already. And it doesn't matter, because they've brought something so special into the world.

"My son!" Fred exclaims again, pointing excitedly at the bundle in his wife's arms. "_My son_!"

"_Our_ son," corrects Angelina, but she doesn't seem to mind. Her attention is being taken away by the kid, sleeping peacefully in the warmth of his mother's arms.

"_He is just the most adorable little thing I've ever seen_," Alicia coos, swooping her face down to the baby. "Awww... look at the dribbles of saliva coming down the corner of his mouth!"

Actually, that doesn't seem too adorable to me. But babies _are_ suppossed to drool.

"Katie, come here!" Alicia beckons her hand at me. "Come and see!"

"Oh, I saw," I tell her, grasping my fingers nervously. Truth is, I'm not too great with infants. For some reason, babies hate me. _Kids_ like me, but babies hate me. And I just don't have that magic touch when it comes to carrying a baby.

"Go on," Angelina says softly, nodding at me. "_Please_?"

Well, it's not like I can reject a new mother and her child. Damnit.

I stiffly make my way over to the bedside, behind Alicia. "Oh yes, you are right, Alicia. He is adorable." Gosh, could I be anymore monotone?

"Get a closer look, silly." Alicia grips me by the shoulders and directs me infront of the child.

"Would you like to hold him?" Angelina asks me. She's smiling up at me so sweetly. I can't say no to her.

But I must. Because if I don't, I might wreck her baby.

"Oh, really, Angelina, it's quite alright - "

"Hold the baby, Katie!" Fred urges, a big grin on his face.

"Come on then," Angelina says, lifting up the bundle to my face. "Hold him!"

"I seriously think I shouldn't - "

"Katie, remember the first time you held Mortimer?" I glance back at Oliver, standing behind Alicia. "You were completely mortified. And then you got over it."

_No_, I haven't. But because he isn't an ugly newborn anymore, I've learned to accept him.

"It's not going to be so bad," he continues, joining in the smiles of everyone else. "Just hold him, he won't bite."

Well, _doy_, he has no teeth to begin with.

"Here you go!" Angelina thrusts the kid gently into my arms before I can protest anymore.

Oh shit! Oh no. I don't know how to hold a baby! There are always these tricks to holding one, and I've never learnt _how_! What if I drop him? I'm going to die if I drop him. Nobody will care whether or not it's an accident or anything. I'm going to _kill_ the baby -

"See? You're doing it!" comes Fred's voice, as he collapses into an abandoned chair.

Thankfully, this boy is sleeping, so he doesn't know what's going on.

"Right," I say uncomfortably, holding out the baby. "Anyone else want a turn?"

"_Me_!" Alicia announces, easily transferring him into her own toned arms. "Oh you are just the _cutest_ baby in the world!"

I instantly feel myself let out a breath of relief. I didn't even noticed I've been holding it in the whole time. I watch as Alicia continues on with her baby-gibberish, touching her nose with his. This, unfortunately, wakes up the baby. And when babies are woken up for not such reason...

"_I don't want him anymore_!" Alicia wails, holding out the baby and crying herself. "_I ruined the baby_!"

Good grief.

As I stuff two fingers into my ears, Alicia gives Fred the baby. And as Fred's a new father, I don't think he's got many methods on how to quiten a baby.

"Come on, kiddo," Fred says, bouncing the baby up and down in his arms. "Stop crying... Stop crying for daddy. Please? _Please stop crying, or you'll make me cry too_!"

Fred helplessly hands over the baby to his mother, who's got a look of panic. "I don't know what to _do_!" Angelina cries, cradling the baby side to side. "I've read books on pregnancy! I've never read any on how to _take care of one_! I wasn't even suppossed to be in labour this early! I don't know what to do!" She continues to rock him side to side, but she's almost to tears herself.

"Let me try," Oliver says calmly, walking over to Angelina and picking up the baby. He continues to cry as Oliver settles him into his arms.

To be speaking on a lighter side, I must admit that this sight is a bit funny. Oliver's arms are so buff that you can hardly see the kid. And it's strange to see him holding a bby, since he looks so... large and hot. Or, not like a father.

Okay, so that's a bit dumb to share.

We all stare transfixedly as Oliver_ lightly_ bounces the baby, while swinging it slightly. And most surprisingly, he starts to sing:

"_Little boy blue, come blow your horn,  
The sheep's in the meadow, the cows in the corn Where is the little boy who looks after the sheep?  
He's under the haystack, fast asleep._"

There's a big moment of pause. Angelina's gripping Fred's hands in her own. Alicia is stock still, her face completely white. But me, on the other hand, am trying not to giggle.

He's done it. Miraculously, he's done it.

He smiles down at the now calm and sleeping baby, planting a kiss on it's hairless head. He looks up, and stares at me straight in the eyes, before giving a small shrug with his goofy smile.

_And then it hits me._

Because _that's_ what I've been waiting for all the time! That's it! _That's_ the sign! It's the _sign_!

_The sign!_

"It's quiet again," Alicia says breathlessly, her face breaking into a huge smile. "I can hear myself again!"

"Oh dear Merlin!" Fred exclaims, clutching onto Angelina. "He made it stop! He made it stop!"

"How'd you do that, Oliver?" Angelina asks.

Oliver tears - I think rather reluctantly - his eyes away from mine to Angelina. "My mother used to sing that to me all the time."

"And you still remember it?" Fred asks, baffled. "But you probably couldn't even talk."

"No, she still sings it when I'm mad or stressed," he says, handing the bundle back to Angelina. "For some reason, that rhyme works wonders on me."

"And my baby!" says Angelina, smiling at Oliver. "_Thank you, Oliver_."

"Yes, thank you," Fred echos, picking up the baby for himself. He puts the child back into his own little cradle. "Now we know what the hell to do if he ever cries again."

"So you'll be singing seven hundred times a day?" Alicia asks, raising an eyebrow at Fred.

"Well, I'll alternate songs. And I've heard from Ginny that Harry's the world's best improv lyricist. I'll just borrow some off him."

I roll my eyes at Fred. "Why don't you discover other ways to cheer him up? I'm sure there are many."

"You'll learn with time," Oliver says gently, patting Angelina lightly on the shoulder. "It takes some time to get used to a baby."

"I wish George were here." We all look over to Fred, who's got a bit of sadness in his features. "He's my twin brother, you'd think he'd be here, no matter what he's feeling."

I walk over to Fred and put an arm around him. "Oh Fred, I'm pretty sure he'd love to be here."

"I know."

There's a slight awkward silence as everyone looks towards their feet. Why_ isn't_ George here? I know he's mad at Alicia and all - but it's his _brother's baby_! He should be here. Or at least, he should've come back to make an appearance, no matter how brief.

"I have to go," Oliver says, breaking through the silence. Everyone's head pops up.

"Why?" Alicia questions, a hand on her hip.

"I told the coach I'd be back as soon as the baby's here. And the baby's here - "

"Can't you spare a few minutes - "

"He's already spared a few hours," Angelina tells her. "I'm sorry we've kept you here so long, Oliver."

"Oh, don't," Oliver says, giving her a hug. "I'm glad I came."

"But you can stay!" I hear myself protest, as everyone gives me an impressed look. Though Oliver gives me a strange one. "You can stay."

"Katie, I really can't - "

"_Yes_, you can!"

"I've got the rest of the play-offs. And I'm the first Keeper. The coach was already antsy to use the sub."

"So? It's just _quidditch_..."

"Ah, don't worry!" He shakes Fred's hands quickly, giving me a bright smile. "I'll be back before you know it."

"When is _that_, exactly?" Fred asks, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Two and a half months."

Two and a half months. He'll be back in _two and a half months_.

"I really _do_ have to go," he says, as he grabs his jacket off the chair. "I really am sorry to be leaving so abruptly - "

"Don't apologize, Oliver," Angelina tells him, gesturing him to quickly put on the jacket. "It's part of your job, and we respect that."

He doesn't respond, but instead looks at me. "Goodbye, then."

I don't answer. Instead, I just nod. He turns around, gives us a final wave, and steps out of the room.

"He'll be back soon, Katie." I turn my head to Alicia. "He said so himself. And Oliver's never broken a promise so far."

"No, he hasn't," I say quietly, wrapping my arms around myself.

"And before you know it, you'll be sitting down with him in a nice restaurant, having a lovely time."

"Maybe."

"Cheer up, will you? He's not going to leave you."

"_But he always does_."

"That's another thing we'll have in common then," Alicia says in a sarcastic tone. "If I continue to see that Healer of mine."

I give a small lifeless smile.

"Katie, Oliver likes you. Just be content with that, because when he gets back, everything will just be picked up from where it was left off. Smile!"

For some reason, I highly doubt that. Even though the perfect sign has just been flashed before me, I have a gnawing feeling that something's going to go wrong.

* * *

**a/n:** ok so it was long. some of you might not have liked it. come on, admit it. i don't mind. you can even write me a review to tell me so. or maybe you _did _like it. tell me about that too. 

anyway, i've decided on an early update because i just didn't want to do my homework. i know, how lame. i guess creative writing really does beat english essays about _king lear_ and _brave new world_. SHIKES.

anyway, in answer to your question, bellatrix731, i'm going to be staying in canada for post-secondary/university. or well, in my lovely province of ontario at least. i haven't decided where, but i'm leaning towards one particular school. i'll be majoring in anthropology/history. i know, i'm so boring.

and to just giddy: i didn't dawn on me until now that you've changed your name. i was wondering what happened to _giddyupgal_ until i finally realized that you were 'just giddy'. i was also wondering why you sounded the same. HAHA i know, i'm such a weirdo. ok then, i'll stop embarassing myself then. thanks for the long reviews btw!

right then, i'll be trying to update before july. srsly. i've been procrastinating too long that i've only left myself eight days to complete 5 essays. so thats two days each for every essay.

oh yes, concerning this story, i'm thinking of making it 25 chapters and under. so maybe it'll be 23 or 24. or 25. depends. i have a feeling i've been dragging this thing out for too long. but it'll end some time, trust me. and i'll tell you when it ends. and who knows, there might be sequels. but let's not be too optimistic, since i probably wont have time for that. but we'll see.

please review.


	23. Connection

**a/n:** alright y'all. apologies for the wait. here goes chapter 23!

* * *

"I hope you know full well that I'm not easily seduced."

"And I hope you know full well that I do not believe you."

"Well, I'm not. Believe what you want to believe, but I'm not."

Yep. Thats a lie. I'm the easiest person to manipulate into sex. How lucky is this guy?

"Come on," Oliver says, tracing circles with his finger on my wrist. "You're here, I'm here, we're both just sitting pretty. What else is there to do?"

"Talk," I say, flicking my wrist away from him.

"You know, that's _all_ we ever do. _Talk_. Face it, Katie. It's getting lame."

"What's wrong with talking?"

"Nothing. It's just that I've come back for two weeks, and all we did was talk."

"So?"

"Can't we do something else?" he whines, corssing his arms."Talking gets so boring."

"Are you saying I'm boring?" I demand indignantly. "Because I'm not - "

"You're not boring. I just find it a bit strange that all we do is talk. Aren't we suppossed to do... I dunno, _coupley things_?"

"We are," I say, spreading my arms around me. "See? We're spending time with each other."

"True as it is, we're not doing anything _together_, if you know what I mean."

I raise my eyebrows at him. "So what do you suggest we do, have a passionate snog-fest?"

"That's _exactly_ what I'm suggesting." He perks up from his seat and wriggles his brows. "That and more."

"Not likely are we doing the latter!"

"Why not? It's not like we both haven't done it before!"

I throw him a glare, looking straight afterwards.

"We both have done it before, haven't we?" he asks quietly, scratching his head. "I mean, I know _I've_ done it." I roll my eyes. "And I'm positive _you've_ done it, since you're so pretty."

"Compliments aren't getting you anywhere, mate," I say agitatedly.

"Can't blame a spurred on bloke for trying, can you?" he answers, a boyish grin on his face. "Come on, Katie. Please?"

"Why not!" he demands, afer ignoring him for a few minutes.

"Because I don't feel like sex right now."

"And why?"

"I just don't."

"Just tell me why."

"Why do I have to tell you why?"

"Because I'm your boyfriend," he says seriously, looking at me straight in the eyes. But he bursts into a wicked grin; "And I think I deserve some sex with such a beautiful bird."

Despite how incredibly obnoxious that was, I feel myself tingle all over at the mention of the word _boyfriend_. Oh the things this man can do to me and my unfortunate hormones! This is a weird feeling. I've never tingled before.

"Why are you squirming?" Oliver asks me, raising an eyebrow at me. "Is that a sign that I've succeeded in making you feel sexy?"

"No!" I cry, turning away from him. You know, so as to not see me turning the deepest shade of crimson in the world.

"What are you so afraid of then? It's not like I'd make it painful for you or anything."

Okay, is it just me, or has this conversation turned from annoying to completely awkward? "Oliver, will you let it _go_ - "

"If you really want, I'll be gentle," he sighs, putting an arm around me. "But as wonderful as tenderness is, I think the fun lies in a more rompy - "

"Oh my god! Stop talking about sex - "

"I will, if you'll give into me. Because, and I think I've said this to you before, I'm dang sexy."

"And charming too," I say sarcastically, biting my tongue to keep from laughing. "Can't we just do this another time?"

"What, have another conversation about why you don't want to sleep with me? I'd prefer it that we never have this conversation again. It's making me nervous."

"_You're_ the one who's making it awkward!"

"Yes, but shouldn't you be proud of me?" he asks, looking quite confused. "I mean, I just started a conversation. We're talking. Communicating. The one thing that every woman covets. And here I am, doing it, and you won't even reward me with a single go."

"Trust me, I'm very glad that you're finally opening up - even if you're opening up to _such_ topics - "

"Why won't you sleep with me?" he cuts through my speech. "Is it me? Do you find me repulsive?"

Now that's a hoot. Which female could ever find a tall, brown-haired, extremely fit, muscular, young, handsome quidditch player repulsive? Whoever does has some serious issues. Even men think he's _to die for_.

"Of course not," I reply, shaking my head.

"Then why?"

I stare at him for as long as I can, before grudgingly saying, "Maybe because I'm scared."

There. I said it. Not only do I_ feel_ like a complete loser, but I'm officialy, a complete loser. I know it, he knows it. George knew it since he first met me. My brother's been telling me my whole life. So I've finally come to the realization that I'm the biggest loser ever to walk the earth.

I mean, who in their right mind is afraid of sex? And sex with Oliver Wood, probably the most good-looking man I'll ever set my eyes on? Here he is, arguably the msot gorgeous, perfect boy, in my sitting room, trying to persuade me into bed with him. And I say no.

I think I'm the one with serious issues.

"What are you afraid of?" he asks, sitting closer to me.

"I dunno," I stall, inching away before I do anything drastic like throw myself onto him.

"Tell me."

"No, it's stupid, you wouldn't want to hear it and all..." I'm babbling. He knows it. He raises an eyebrow. "Why are you so interested?"

"So then I can find out why you're scared, help you, and finally make you sleep with me so we can both feel better. Physically. And emotionall. Whichever one appeals to you most."

"Seriously, though. I want to know." He gives me an encouraging smile.

"I don't want to be remembered by you as the girl who gave in two weeks after dating!" I blurt out, afraid to look at him. "And I'm not a professional, so I'm also afraid you might think it's weird afterwards."

He doesn't say anything.

Not even after a few minutes.

No, insterad, he remains where he is, his face inches away from mine. Frozen. Just staring at me as if I were some kind of bug. Until -

"_What the heck_?" he roars with laughter, rolling back on the couch and clutching his head. "Are you _serious_?"

Here I thought that I could reach no lower than rock bottom.

"I can't believe that's why!" he exlaims, bursting into new fits of laughter. "_No professional_! That's priceless!"

"Well, excuse me for telling the truth!" I say hotly, piercing daggers at him with me eyes. "You ask me why, I tell you, and then you _mock_ me?"

"I'm not mocking," he tells me, after calming down. His face is flushed and his eyes are sparkling. "I just never would've thought that would be the reason."

"What did you think it was?" I ask him, my eyes narrowing suspiciously.

He shrugs his shoulders, a faint trace of a smile still on his lips. "I dunno. Maybe you had a phobia to it or something. But obviously you're no professional. _I'm_ no professional."

"Well, you've had a lot more experience than I ever did." I breathe out loudly, clutching my knees against my chest.

"I've only ever done it with three people," he says, stroking his chin in thoght. "Of course, we used to do it a lot. But still, only three."

"I hope you know that doesn't make me feel any better."

"Well, how many have you ever slept with?"

"One," I whisper, resting my head on my knees.

"_One_?" he repeats, sounding baffled. "You're not serious are you?"

I lift my head up to glare at him. His eyes widen as his jaw juts out in realization.

"Wow. _One_." He peers at me."Why only one?"

What the shit does he mean, why only one? "Because I didn't feel the need to give myself away just for the fun of it!" I snap, turning m face away from his. "And I don't think I should hop into bed with just anybody until I really feel connected with them."

"You don't feel connected with me?" he questions, his voice sounding hard. "_Ouch_."

"I've only been with you for two weeks. Two weeks can't determine a feeling."

"It's determined mine."

"Do you ever stop joking around?"

"Will you ever accept me?"

Both questions hang in the air, turning it cold and stale. Five minutes ago we were having a fun conversation about sex, and now we're doubting each other. Grand. Just grand.

"If the answer ever dawns on you, tell me." I can feel his weight lift from my couch, and hear him stalk towards the door. "And just to let you know, I never just hop into bed with any random person. I too wait until there's a connection."

With that said, he turns the knob of my door, and walking out with a click behind him.

He makes me so mad! If he came back, the first thing I'd do is rip his face off. What's he even trying? You can't determine a connection in a mere _two weeks_!

Unless you can, and I'm just beiong ignorant. Maybe he _did_ feel a connection.

Well, of course he felt something. Becuase unlike me, he isn't afraid of committment. He isn't afraid of giving into another person. When he gets into a relationship, he doesn't shrink away. He faces it head-on, and dives completely in, drowning himself all the way through.

And I just back off at every possible opportunity presented, afraid of the unknown.

So I'm not just a loser. I'm a single loser.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"_What a loser_!"

Yes, because I never figured that out myself.

"If I'm a loser, you're a loser," I retaliate, sipping forcefully from my cup of tea.

"At least I'm not afriad of committing to someone,' George replies, smiling with his teeth. "And why _are_ you afraid? In my lifetime, never have I seen a bloke try so hard as Oliver! That man has waited for an _entire year_ just to get you by his side, and then you just blow him off because you don't want sex! You've got problems, Katie. Who says no to sex?"

"_You _said no to sex."

"_Once_," he tells me, raising a brow. "And she was crazy. So my reason is legitimate."

"Well, maybe Oliver's crazy."

"Of course he is!" he exclaims, shaking his head. "Who would still be chasing after the same girl, after facing rejection for about seventeen million times?"

"Do you think he'll want to end it?" I ask quietly, avoiding George's eye.

"Obviously not," he answers. "I know Oliver. and I know he's determined. If he wants to sleep with you, he won't rest until he succeeds. _Then_ maybe he'll end it with you."

"Really?"

"Probably. So go save yourself, have some sex, and remain in a relationship that I know you desperately want to keep."

"What if he thinks I suck?"

"You probably do," he tells me, giving me an odd look. "I'm pretty positive you've been dry for about a year and a half. After that guy you dated."

"How do _you_ know?"

"Well, you didn't tell me anything at the hospital, so I took it upon myself to come to wild conclusions. And judging by your shock, I think I'm right."

"He's going to break up with me for my poor performance!"

"You'll never know what he thinks if you just sit here in my house," he scoffs, giving me a sigh. "You should be at his house if you want an orgasm."

"_You_ should be with Nasuada if you don't want to continue _your own_ dry spell!" I sit back in my chair and cross my arms, trying to make a point.

He rolls his eyes at me. "You're never going to give that up, are you?"

"Nope."

"Okay, I'll make you a deal. If you patch things up with Oliver, I will attempt to engage your friend into a relationship."

"Not attempt. _Get_ her into a relationship with you. And you're going to get into a relationship before I patch things over with Oliver."

'Why?"

"Because unlike you, I'm already in a relationship, albeit a shaky one. I want to ensure that you're hapy too. And I want to make sure you're happy before I'm happy."

"As touching as it is," Geoge says sarcasticall, biting on the side of his cheek, "I think you're just scared to go first. But whatever. We'll do it your way. I go first, and then it's your turn. Deal?" He holds out his hand, looking at me expectantly.

"Deal," I reply, my hand limp in his.

"So when do I start?"

"Tomorrow. She's out right now with her boyfriend."

"_What_?" george cries, letting go of my hand harshly."You never said anything about a boyfriend!"

"What's your point?" I ask, arching my own brow. "Your task is simple; _get her with you_."

"Too bad you didn't mention the obstacle. Why is she with Jack anyway? They're suppossed to be - "

"Broken up. They are. This is some new guy. Kyle or something. He's an idiot, so just do it tomorrow, okay?"

He gives me a final glare before nodding slowly. "Fine. Tomorrow it is."

"After lunch. And I want details. From both of you. Invite me to brunch the next day or something."

"And then it's your turn."

Alas, and then it's my turn. Well... if George can somehow manage to break up a relationship, I'm sure it's not so hard to mend one. At least, I hope it's not too hard.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Babies may be cute, but you know, it gets pretty old.

Especially right now. The baby's cuteness is running to an all-time low.

"Say _hi Auntie Katie_! Say _hi_!"

I have been here for around eight minutes. This drooling lump hasn't even uttered a _single sound_.

"Come on, baby. Say _hi_! _Hi Auntie Katie, hi_!"

And even more of a disappointment is his mother, who, after nines minutes now, still cannot grasp the fact that her son is never going to speak for the day.

"Give it a rest, Angelina, he's not going to say anything," I tell her, switching my weight onto my other foot and leaning against the door frame.

Of course she ignores me. Her son is apparently, the smartest, most mouthiest boy in the world. "Richie say _hi_! Say_ hi_, Richie. Richie say _hi_!"

I roll my eyes as I make my way into the living room. It's four in the afternoon, and still no word from George. I wonder how his mission is going.

"Well, he was mumbling your name all morning," Angelina says with a sigh, putting the baby in his cradle beside the couch. "Maybe he's shy."

"I'm sure," I say, lifting my brows up to look at the boy.

Now, don't get me wrong. I like the kid and all, he's very sweet most of the time. I just can't stand the fact that his parents make me stand there and wait for him to talk. No baby of barely two and a half months can talk. It's impossible! Their mouth organs probably haven't even fully developed yet! So I don't understand why Angelina and Fred won't accept it that their son cannot talk.

Did I mention how wacked out his parents are as well? This kid has the longest name in the history of wizarding names. Richard Frederick Percival Ronald Charles William Arturo George Hanlen Weasley. A name for _every boy_ in both families.

"Where's Fred?" I ask, wanting to take the topic off of the baby. Not that I don't like talking about the baby. But that's all we've done for two months solid.

"Out with George," she answers, sitting back on the couch and closing her eyes.

"Fred's with George?" I raise a brow in question.

"Yes. George asked him if he'd go along on some task he has to do. And you know how they are. Brothers, sticking together and all..."

"So Alicia and the Healer are still going strong?"

"A bit too strong if you ask me," she replies, making a sound through her nose, "but isn't every relationship regarding her a bit too strong?"

"Have you met him?"

"_Once_," she tells me, with a look of disgust on her face. "There's a tad too much product in his hair. And he speaks as if he's better educated than the rest of us. He looked down on Fred. Remember how he and George didn't exactly complete their Seventh year at Hogwarts?"

"So in otherwords, her new boyfriend isn't a keeper."

"Well, you never know with that girl, do you? He's filthy rich, and I guess he's good looking. He's a parent pleaser, and he can tolerate her. She might actually keep this one."

"George doesn't know, does he?" Angelina asks me, after a brief moment of silence. She has a look of guilt on her face, even if it isn't really to do with her. "I mean, after running off at the hospital, I'm sure he took it hard. Come to think of it, I haven't exactly seen him since the hospital - "

"You haven't?" I raise my eyebrow at her. "But didn't you say he asked Fred to do something with him?"

"Well, yeah, but I wasn't there."

"So George hasn't even seen his nephew yet?"

"Um, no, I suppose he hasn't. But don't worry, they'll meet sooner or later, Fred's got the idea that he wants George to be godfather - "

"I don't think George will mind it if Alicia's off with a new beau," I say, biting my lower lip. "He's off chasing Nasuada Keele right now."

"Your friend from school and work? She's quite pretty, isn't she?"

I hum in agreement. "She likes him too so I don't think there should be any prolems. George's task is just to get her, and to make her break up with her boyfriend."

Angelina gives mea reproving look. "Why does George always land himself into these kinds of situations?"

"I dunno." I give a bob of my shoulders. "Maybe because he always acts too late, and therefore, must result to drastic measures."

"Well, since everyone's hooking up, are things between you and Oliver going to another level?"

"We've made it to the significant other stage if you're wondering, but we're on shaky ground."

"Why?" she asks, picking up the now wailing Richie from his crib. "I saw Oliver two days ago. He seemed absolutely smitten."

"It's a sex issue," I confess, throwing my hands into the air. "He wanted sex, I told him I was scared and wanted it to be special and not a spur of the moment type of thing, he got defensive and walked away."

"I think you two are more dramatic than Alicia," she says mildly. "Why are you sitting here with me then? Shouldn't you be over at his place having make-up sex?"

"Did you not hear what I said about my opinions on sex?"

"I'm just saying!" She puts the baby over her shoulders and starts tapping his back. "But seriously, what are you doing here? Go apologize!"

"I will, after George is successful with his mission."

She gives me a strange look. "You made a deal with George? That's basically like making a deal with the devil."

"Oh please. George may be mean to you guys, but with me, he's a softie."

"If you say so." She walks around the floor with the crying baby screaming all over the place. "But if I were you, I'd do it now. You know, before another woman gets to him."

Another woman? _Another woman_! Gosh why didn't I think of that? Obviously there'd be another woman. I mean, do you see how gorgeous Oliver is? Of course thereès another woman. And she can't get him, he's with _me_!...

Unless I'm counting on his morals too much. But I'm pretty sure his morality is still good...

"Honestly speaking, screw George. He's getting a girlfriend right now. You should be getting your boyfriend. George will always be there. Oliver won't. And it's not like George would get mad, right?"

"I guess not." I heave a sigh, placing my hands over my face. "You think I should do it?"

"Definitely."

"Now?"

"Of course! Go! Shoo, get out of my house, Katie. Besides, Richie's getting restless. You might not want to be around for his mood swings."

What kind of messed up two month-old has mood swings?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Please be home. Please be home. Please please please please _please be home_!

I hate rain. Don't get me wrong, rain isn't bad. But it's bad when it's a storm and there's thunder and lightning. Especially bad when you fear storms, thunder and lightning.

"Come _on_!" I grunt under my breath, knocking fiercely at the door. I've been outside soaking for three minutes and nobody has answered. Not even Slinky! And Slinky's _always_ there!

I give another feeble attempt at the door to no avail. This is insane. How could anybody not answer the door? Sure, the thunder's loud, and the crack of each lightning bolt is piercing, but honestly! Shouldn't someone have heard me yet?

"Oliver, open the door!" I yell at the top of my lungs, banging ferociously with both fists. "Open the damn door, Oliver! Open the door! I know you're in there, so just do me this one favour and get me out of the rain and _open the door_!"

I wait semi-patiently for another minute or so, and continue on with the knocking. "Oliver, _please_! Open the door. I need to talk to you! Come on, open the door! My door's always open for you! Open the fucking door! Open the door, open the door, _open the door_!"

"I swear on Merlin's deathbed, if you don't open this fucking door this fucking instanrt, I will blow your house to shreds! And don't think I can't, because I've been trained to do it!"

Still no bloody answer.

"OLIVER, IT'S ME, KATIE. I'VE BEEN HERE, STANDING IN THE STORM, FOR AROUND TWELVE MINUTES NOW, SOAKING MY BRAINS OUT JUST TO HAVE A WORD WITH YOU. AND IF YOU CAN'T EVEN DO ME THE COURTESY THAT I ALWAYS DO YOU, IT JUST SHOWS HOW BIG OF A FUCKED UP MORON YOU BLOODY WELL ARE! I HATE YOU, I HATE YOUR GUTS, AND YOUR STINKING I'M SO COCKY ATTI - "

"_Can I help you_?"

My right fist is halfway to knocking the door, until my entire being freezes over. Because standing in front of me is not Oliver. And it isn't Slinky either. No, it's a woman. Of about my age, or a little older. Looking dishivelled by appearance, but confused with me.

"_Who're you_?" I demand, taking my fist back and jamming my arms across my chest.

"I should ask you the same question."

"And I asked it first, so I think it's only proper that youg o first."

She raises an oh-so-perfected eyebrow at me, her face molding into a sneer. "Do you really think I'd give my name to some annonymous, who's probably a stalker of Oliver Wood?"

_What!_ Oh no she didn't! "Stalker?" I spit, completely outraged. "_Me_? I'm the stalker? As if!"

"Who's at the door?" says another voice, its footsteps coming closer and closer. "Aw bloody hell, do I have to sign another autogr - ! _Katie_!"

I look around the woman's shoulders to see Oliver coming into view, fastening a sleeping robe around himself. Instead of answering him, I look back and forth between him and the woman.

"Katie," he starts, staying put at his spot and rubbing his face roughly. "What are you doing here?"

"Funny, I should ask _you_ the same question!" I snap venomously, throwing a glare at the woman before looking back at him. "What the hell is this!"

"Why are you here?" he asks, ignoring me and walking towards the door.

"I came thinking that maybe -_ maybe_ we could talk things over."

"Ah yes. _Talking_."

My eyes narrow at him. I look over at the woman beside him. She too, is in a sleeping robe that seems messily tied up. Her hair, just like his, is roughled and tangled in peculiar places. And they both look flushed.

_They couldn't have_. No, they really couldn't have. Because Oliver and I are _together_. If we weren't, then _maybe_ this could happen. It can't happen. He's with me. It was just a fight. He surely couldn't have taken it as a break up, right? He shouldn't have. If he thought it was a break up, shouldn't I know too? Afterall, I'm the other half to the whole relationship!

"Who are you?" I ask the woman again, looking directly into her eyes. "_Tell me_!"

"Andrea Warbeck, if you must know," she replies, her hands on her waist. "Odd that you couldn't figure it out. I don't mean to boast, but I _am_ pretty big internationally and whatnot."

Andrea Warbeck! Oliver had dated Celestina Warbeck's daughter three years ago, and according to _Witch Weekly_, they were pretty exclusive! If she's here with him then -

"If you wanted to end it, you could've told me," I tell him tonelessly.

His face pales with a rush of guilt."Look, Katie. I can explain - "

"You _can_!" I cry, turning around and walking away from his front steps. "Of _course_ you can, Oliver! But you _won't_. Didn't you say so yourself? You're tired of talking! You're tired of talking especially with me! In otherwords, you're sick of me!"

"Katie, don't be ridiculous!" I feel a hand grasp my arm tightly. "If you'll stop being so difficult - "

"That's all I am to you, isn't it?" My voice is weak and defeated. I don't even try to yank myself away from his hand. "Everytime we have an argument, I'm always ridiculous and difficult. I won't sleep with you, which makes me difficult. You don't know why since you're so good looking, which makes me ridiculous. So of course you'd fine someone else to compensate."

"Okay, that conclusion is just - "

"_Ridiculous_?" I offer, walking away once more. His fingers slide from my arm, as I say one final thing to him; "You're a great person, Oliver Wood. And I'm not sorry that you came into my life. It just surprises me that despite the full year you've had trying to get me, you're able to throw it all away. I always thought it'd be me, being the one confused about relationships and all. But maybe you just didn't like me enough."

I turn the bend, and through the corner of my eyes, I can see him there, standing pathetically in the storm, arms hanging loosely and swingin slightly from the wind, with his famous counterpart by his side.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I've just gotten off from the fireplace with George and Nasuada. Indeed they gave me details. Details about how they decided to ditch the world and go to paradise without any hesitation whatsoever. Oh how I envy them.

At least those two are happy. And truthfully, I'm very pleased that they're happy. I didn't think I could be happy after the burn from yesterday. I mean, I know Oliver can go low. I just never would've thought he'd actually go that low.

Not that I blame him. I'm sure it's got something to do with me. Maybe I was a bit unfair. But how can I be unfair? It's my body. I'll have sexual relations when I want to. he can't jsut force me into sex because he wants it.

And nor does he have the right to ditch our relationship! I know she's famous. but let's be real here. Obviously I'm the better looking one. She may be his age, but when you're in your twenties, you want to look forver young!

This is just sad. I never would've thought the reason we'd break up was do to mistrust. It's not even about the sex. Not _technically_. It's a trust issue. Maybe I still don't trust him yet. Or, not completely. I don't even know why I can't trust him. And it's not just him. It's _every man_. Every man after that stupid Henry Weihl. Why did he break up with me? I wasn't so bad. One day after we had sex the first time, he just leaves. Gone. Without a trace.

Gone form my bed, from him house, from his work. Just gone.

With one little note scribbled on the scrappiest piece of parchment with the words, "I can't do this".

Geez. And now I'm _crying_! And who am I crying over exactly? Henry or Oliver? Am I crying because Henry left me like I was dirt, or am I crying because I treated Oliver like dirt?

I shouldn't have treated him like dirt. All he's ever done for me was be my friend. And like me. Who could blame him for wanting sex?

"_Oh my god_!" I hear myself shriek and reach instinctively for my wand. Cautiously, I creep towards the door, quietly, listening for a sound.

The banging comes again, making me cringe with fear. This is it. I'm going to die. I'm going to die in my pyjamas with tears encrusting my face. I'm going to die single, with my owls and fish. I'm bird and fish lady! I'm going to die as _bird and fish lady_! Why do I have to die the most pathetic death? And why am I thinking about how unfair my life is in such a moment as this? Shouldn't I be worrying about -

I make a noise through my mouth and another set of banging surrounds my flat. I can't die like this. Of course I can't. I haven't even completed my list of thigns to do before I turn twenty-five. I haven't gone muggle go-karting. I haven't made pizza with my mother. I never went skiing! I've never experimented with dragon blood, never petted a thestral, never owned a niffler, and never went hiking in the Forbidden Forest! Not only am I going to die alone with birds and a fish, I'm going to die unaccomplished and an utter failure!

I knew it! I _knew_ I should've had sex with Oliver! Why am I so _stupid_? The opportunity was spitting at me in the face! If I'd had sex, he'd be here right now, so we could both die together! Or maybe I'd be at his place so we wouldn't have to die at all!

Yeah, okay. I think I'm liking the latter part of the conclusion.

"Katie! Open the door!"

Strange... is that- "_Oliver_?"

"_Open the door, Katie_!"

Oh my god, I'm not going to die alone!

"Remember when you said your door was always open?" he shouts through the wooden frame, still banging at it. "It's locked right now, and I'd _really_ appreciate it if you'd just open the damn - "

"_Door_." As I yank the door apart, I find him standing there, small and faint dark circles undere his eyes, looking extremely relieved. "_You opened the door_."

"I'm courteous like that," I reply lamely, blocking the entrance. "Is someone downstairs?"

"No, why?" he asks, looking suspiciously at me.

"So no killers?"

"None that I've run into."

"Oh. Well, good."

"Very good."

We both stand there awkwardly, me with my hands on my door, him with his tapping foot.

"Can I help you?" I offer, looking up cautiously.

His eyes focus on my fiercely, not letting go. "Yeah. Yeah you can."

Shuffling my feet on the ground, afraid to look anywhere but him, I whisper, "What do you want?"

And before I know it, he steps up right in front of me, grabs me by the waist and shoves his mouth onto mine. His lovely, sweet mouth onto _mine_!

And how I miss this mouth! Okay, I know it hasn't even been a _week_ since we've seperated, but if you had any clue what he can do just by kissing - well, you'd miss it too.

"Whatever you thought happened that night," he says roughly, voice hoarse and panting, "it didn't happen." He captures my lips again, sending me into probably the most intense snog I've ever experienced. And trust me, when it comes to mouth action, I've had plenty of experience.

"_Nothing_ happened." He breaks away, and only then do I realize he's cornered me against a wall. And of course, I don't really know which wall, since my focus has been on him for the past few minutes. I quickly glance around his frame to check if the door is closed.

It is. _Good_.

"Why were you two wearing robes?" I ask, avoiding his gaze. "Seems to me like - "

"I was sleeping, she came crying, I comforted her, stayed up the whole two nights, you walked in and assumed. Nothing happened."

"Positive?"

He directs his lips to mine, feeding me the answer. Well, with a kiss like that, I guess I can assume I'm the only one in his life right now. _Damn_ he's good! I wonder what _else_ that mouth can do -

"Where are we going?" I squeal. He's lifted me up, making me wrap my legs arond his waist and scrabble for something to hold onto.

"Bedroom," he answers shortly, nudging the door open with his foot.

"Oh. Okay."

"You want me to?" he asks, lowering me down slowly on the bed. He fixes his eyes with mine. I can see very individual hazle speck. His eyes look at me kindly and gently, and sparkle with something I can't really exactly identify. But I've got a gut feeling that the sparkling is a good thing.

"_Yes_," I whisper into his mouth, pulling him down lower with me.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"_See_? Like I told you before; satisfied physically _and_ emotionally." His arms are wrapped tightly around me. Me and no other.

"I had sex with you. Shouldn't you at least give the boasting a rest?"

"Satisfaction three times. Aren't you happy?"

"Go to sleep, Oliver. I'm tired anyway."

"Of course you are," he snickers. "After_ that_, who wouldn't be?"

"You seem full of life," I tell him, making myself more cofortable on his chest. "Just sleep, will you?"

"I will. Eventually."

"Why not now?"

"Because I'm still trying to grasp the fact that I've finally gotten you into bed with me."

"Shut it and sleep. Please."

"I'll get there!"

He's pretty good, I'll give him that. Much better than Henry. Of course, I've only ever done it once with Henry, but _still_.

So here I am. Not dead, and definitely not alone. Instead, I've got Europe's most sought after quidditch player and heartthrob lying beside me in all his naked glory. And all that's on his mind is _me_. Katie Justice Bell.

Or maybe Katie Justic Bell Wood.

Nah, that sounds horrendous. Katie Bell Wood. Katie Wood.

So perhaps I'm jumping to conclusions here. Afterall, I've only just slept with him tonight. Why think about these things?

But it's not like you can really blame a girl for thinking up such things like this. Especially when that girl's got Oliver Wood in bed with her. And this dang sexy man beside her sure has one heck of a good wood.

* * *

**a/n:** ok so here goes the explanation:

i've moved once again! i know i know, you may think i'm making this crap up, but i'm not. my computer's unhooked and the internet connection is nonexistent, so i had to result in buying a new laptop - which i needed anyway for university - use another wireless connection, and write the story. sorry sorry sorry for it being late. but it's here. and technically speaking, it's still july. so HA!

anyway, yes, _this is the last chapter of the story_. rest assured, there_ is_ an epilogue. like deathly hallows.

you know, i was actually quite disappointed with that last book. jkr said lupin would have a bigger role. please to that. he and tonks barely appeared. and teddy. i like teddy, but whatevz. i just wanted to know how exactly the lupin family died. and what dudley saw after his dementor attack. the snape and lily thing was so obvious, but she had me thinking it was something even more intense. sadness. however, i did like the epilogue. despite the majority of the fans. i thought it was quite funny.

ok guys. so **_review this last chapter or else - ! no epilogue from me!_**


	24. Rounded Change

**a/n:** ZOMG _EPILOGUE_?! yeah, forrrealz.

* * *

This is not happening. This is _so_ not happening.

"So what is it again? You do a semi-squat and hang onto the bed-post?"

_This is not happening_!

"Come on, mum, let's have this conversation another time." On my right sits Oliver, clearly as embarassed as I am.

Eliza makes a tsk noise at him. "It's the perfect time to be talking about this sort of matter. It's beneficial to you kids as well!"

"No, no. No, mum. Not really."

"Alright then. If not now, then when? Or are you so slick that you don't need any tips and can just please your wife all night long? I don't _think_ so, son."

I can hear myself groaning inwardly. I can see my mother out of the corner of my eyes, nodding fervently along. I can see my father is probably at a higher level of embarassment than I am.

I cannot believe Oliver's mother is this open. I really cannot.

"Well, he _is_ a Wood and whatnot," pipes Alex. "I did not raise a fine young man who would fail at exciting his wife now, did I?"

"Seriously!" Oliver cries, and about a gazillion people glance out way. Okay, maybe not a gazillion. But is sure feels that way. "You both just need to _stop_ - "

"Oliver dear, there is no need to raise your voice to your mother," Eliza says, ignoring him. "Now, Vecita, you need to be well turned on at this point, got that? And Paulo, you know how to do that, don't you?"

You know, being married is great. The fact that my parents and Oliver's parent get along fantastically was something way beyond what I dreamed. But shit this, I didn't sign on for parental sex talk.

"Mum, come on!" Oliver exclaims, throwing down his napkin in dusgust. "They've both been married for years, of course he would know how. Stop asking him! And stop talking!"

"Don't talk to your mother that way," Alex says, a threatening tone in his voice. "If it weren't for you upsetting her all the time we see you, we wouldn't have flew off to Scotland!"

"You moved there because you wanted to! It's why you move everywhere, so don't go and blame me - "

"All of this... intercourse talk is really making me uncomfortable," dad mumbles, rubbing his temples together.

"Oliver Winslow Wood! _Behave_!" Eliza shrieks, causing more people to look. And murmur because Oliver Winslow Wood is in the house.

Haha. _Winslow_.

"Stop laughing at Winslow!" Oliver says, raising an eyebrow at me. "It's been two years, get over it!"

Shit. I can't believe I laughed out loud.

"Okay everyone just stop!" I yell over the argument that starts between the five of them. "We all came here for a lovely lunch. No bickering!"

Eliza gives her son a sharp slap on the chest. "See that, boy? You're upsetting your wife! Stress towards the pregnant never yield healthy results." She rolls her eyes as Oliver mouths silently some words that no one makes out.

"Fine. _Fine_!" Oliver exclaims, putting his hands up and shaking his head. "Whatever. Go and embarass yourselves infront of everyone and a bunch of people sitting around us that we don't know. Go ahead and ruin my reputation. Oliver Wood's parents are sex maniacs who like to share with the world. Go _ahead_."

"There's no need to be so _dramatic_ about it," Eliza replies, once more rolling her eyes at him. "Children! So inconsiderate sometimes!"

"_I know_," mum replies, tapping Eliza lightly on the hand from across the table.

Oliver and I sigh in unison.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"You're just going to adore children, Katie. And I know this is your first one and you may be doubting yourself, but you'll just love them!" Fred says, sipping tea on our back porch. His own two kids are running around like devils in the backyard, chasing Oliver on his broomstick, while my he laughs like a maniac.

I question his age too.

"Hey, remember that time when you freaked out because you had a kid?" George says, snapping his fingers at his brother. "Because I do, and god, did you look like a complete idiot."

Fred shoots a glare at his twin, and sits back on his seat on mock anger. Angelina laughs beside himm nodding along with George.

"Well, _I_ agree with Fred." This is from Alicia, who has a kid of her own. One little girl named Lucy - Lulu for short - who's absolutely smitten with Richie. "I mean, I know that partners aren't forever, but children are." She smiles at her daughter, who's happily sitting on her lap knawing a cookie.

I think Alicia's matured a ton in the past five years. After being a big, bratty fashionista, she's come a long way after discovering she was pregnant and being left by her then boyfriend. Judging by the way she dresses now, you'd never guess she was the total it girl back in the day.

Okay, maybe you can. She hasn't lost all of her touch. Lucky bitch.

"I doubt it," George replies, shrugging his shoulder. "I love all your kids and all, but could you ever picture me with one?"

"No, not really," Nasuada says, looking at him with doubt. She flashes him a smile which he returns.

Speaking of people coming a long way, I also think that George and Nasuada have come a long way as well. Having broken up over a year ago, due to the fact that George doesn't want children while Nasuada does, the two have remained friends. And even Alicia and Nasuada get along too. I have a feeling it's because neither women are with George, and have found common ground.

"Ah well, who knows," George tells us, reaching for a cookie of his own, but isn't quick enough as Lulu takes it first. "_Hey_! That was suppossed to be _mine_!"

The little girl giggle of hers makes the entire table giggle too. "I'll share wif you, Uncle George," she says, breaking off half the cookie and handing the piece to him. "Friends."

"_Friends_," he says, knocking his half with hers. "Well, this kid seems rather cute."

"Oh yeah, _now_ you say so," Nasuada says sarcastically. "A little too late there, Weasley!"

"I'm still thinking about it! I'll tell you when I want one though, since you're still so beautiful."

"Flattery isn't going to get you anywhere near me this time."

"We'll see about _that_, won't we," he says, making her blush furiously. He gives her a wink, and holds her hand, which she allows. Strange.

A shadow looms over us, and I look up to see Oliver hovering above on his broom. "Are there any more cookies left?" he hollers, flying closer to the table.

"No, but I can get some," I tell him, as I get up slowly and take the plate with me.

"What are you _doing_?" he practically shrieks, flying right beside me. "_Why are you standing_?"

Because people are made to stand, stupid.

"I'm getting you more cookies, genius."

"Rest your pretty swollen legs there, dear wife," he says, taking the plate away from me. "You're suppossed to be sitting anyway. I can get my own cookies."

I roll my eyes and smile, sitting back down, holding onto my unfortunately big uterus. Never in my life would I have thought I'd be pregnant. Considering how I'm not a fan of the preggo ladies, I feel like a hypocrite for being one now.

When I look up, I'm met with a kiss. "Thanks for offering, though!" Oliver calls, as he flies into the house.

"What a nut job," I mutter, reaching for my tea cup.

"Well, you really should be resting," Angelina says with a serious tone. "It's good for you and the baby. I've brought along some frog liver soup for you too. Drink that, it helps."

"With that?"

"I don't know, my mum just told me to make it because she said it helps."

Gee, what a reason.

So five years in the making, and I can honestly say that my life has completely turned around. From being the irritatingly bitter person I used to be, with a mother who harasses me about my relationship status, to being married to uber rich and popular Oliver Wood and carrying his son - which he doesn't know about since he thinks that nothing can really prove the gender unless the thing's actually out - I think I've changed. Everything's changed in five years.

Well, not everything. Lance went and married Geraldine, so that's not a good bit. Whatever, I'm richer than he is, if you convert the galleons back to quids.

Anyway, everything's different now. I guess Oliver's Seer is correct. I have proof. Ever since I got engaged three years ago, I started to go and see her. She said the first kid would be a boy. Very eerie.

You can say that I've changed, and I will one hundred perecent agree with you. I don't know if the change is for the better or for worse. I can never be sure of change. All I know is that at the moment, everything is good. My house is good, my house elf is good, my health is good, and my husband is good.

So I did it. I got through it all. I finally married Oliver Wood. Oh yeah, I'll share a secret with you; I've been nursing the biggest crush on him since I was twelve. I know, I'm such an idiot for denying about it. It's okay though, I got him. He's still dang sexy thirty. Actually, I think he's gotten better with age. And damn, he's still as ripped as he was when he was twenty-five.

Stop getting turned on there.

For fuck's sake, _shut up_, you can get turned on now. You've married him and he's turned you on a billion times anyway.

I love being married to a really fit quidditch player.

* * *

**a/n:** ok so. first thing's first - _apology_.

i know it's been almost a year. you can say it was a year, but that's not true because it'd be a year in july, and according to my canadian calendar, i haven't reached there yet.

i'm so terribly sorry that i have put off this updated for so long. i can make up all the excuses i can muster up with, but one thing's true: there was no time. going to university is such a time killer. i went on vacation to china last august for an entire month, and came back 3 days before moving into residence. and i haven't been off until may, and that's when i started this job i have as a barista.

ok anyway, the point is, **i've kept my word**. i never abandoned this story. i've worked hard on this epilogue. i've had it at the back of my mind for 11 months now. so here it is, the last installment of A Look to the Left.

i'm actually very sad to see this story end, which is also another reason for me putting it off. i guess i thought that the longer i waited, the longer the life of this thing would be. i'm wrong though, most of my readers have abandoned this story, or have forgotten about it. sadness.

in case you were wondering, _no_, i'm not going to make _A Look to the Left 2_. i personally don't want to. it's not that i'ved outgrown this harry potter phase, which many people actually have done. no, it's because the story is over. oliver got katie and they're living happily ever after in the mansion.

for now, i think i'll go back and return to writing _Even Angels Fall_. actually, no. i don't want to, since i know in the story that they both die. very sad.

i'm going to go back to writing _Fools Rush In_, even though i know it wont get as much praise as this one did, mainly because there are so many JPLP stories out there that people would overlook it. whatever.

however, if i do get a high demand for _ALTTL2_, i might consider doing it. i don't think many would though. you all must know by now that the story has no more plot to it because it is finished, but you never know, things may change. i might write about the kids. who knows.

so turrah all of you, and i thank you for reading this epilogue. and now, i thank you for reading the entire story. i hope you have all thoroughly enjoyed it, because i can honestly say that writing this thing was a bit of a bitch, but i'm so happy about it. i hope there are many more KBOW stories out there for you to enjoy.

whatever, screw it. i hope this is the best one you ever will read.

review please, it's my last retuest i'll ever have for this story.

PEACE OUT WITH MUH STEEZ!

- crooked aura.


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